Destiny's Dreams
by coldqueen
Summary: Rogue doesn't release Apocalypse, instead inadvertently releasing a far greater evil. Can her friends and enemies help her stop the unstoppable?
1. One of These Nights

**Title: Destiny's Dreams**

**Rating:** PG-13, for now...

**Pairing:** Rogue/Remy

**Summary:** This is a "What If?" story, much akin to some of the AU of Marvel Comics. My question is...what if something had gone wrong when Mesmero and Mystique had kidnapped Rogue? What if she'd gone missing for a month, where as Mesmero and Mystique were found incapacitated the same day she'd gone missing? What if Apocalypse had never risen, and instead a new unknown villain had emerged? And what would happen if Rogue suddenly found herself taken from everything she'd known for a year, and was forced to return and save a world she'd hoped long gone?

* * *

**Chapter 1: One of These Nights

* * *

**

She liked to think that they loved her. In their ignorance of her true nature, of her purpose in this life, she liked to think they considered her friend, family, and daughter. From Mystique to Storm to Jean to Kurt. Various relationships and memories swirling in her mind, tearing at one cornerstone even as it built up another.

Reality was shifting itself and she feared she would be changed irrevocably by the acts forced upon her. There could be no blame laid elsewhere, for if she'd never been strong enough to resist, didn't the blame lay with her? Perhaps, with Mother Nature or God? If she hadn't had the talents she had, would she have lived a peaceful life, with parents and boyfriends? With friends and lovers? Just maybe, this was the curse of true Vision. To see the possibilities and forever be plagued with the "what if's".

What if she didn't have Vision at all, and once again she was a willing victim to delusions of grandeur and things not meant to be? Did she really live in a mansion in Massachusetts? Did she really have a blue-furred brother, and an equally blue mother? Did she really not have the trivial sense of touch? Trivial though it may seem, she latched onto that fact because it was the only inconvertible one she could ponder at the moment.

She held onto it, her not being able to touch, and used it to ground herself in whatever situation she'd drifted from. Professor Xavier often said it was a bad habit of her's, daydreaming in the midst of hostile territory, her mind treading the waters of probability. It was something she'd picked up from her mother, Irene. The daydreams and the Vision.

She'd yet to tell anyone of either.

Her eyes open slowly, struggling to fight past the drowsiness brought on by imprinting someone, the struggle of finding one's own self in the chaos of a crowded mind only recently made clean. It shouldn't be this way; she remembered as she tried, the Professor fixed this, hadn't he? Cleaned her slate of sins leaving white-washed walls of mental stability that could only last so long. She'd viewed it as a sort of 'vacation' from the mental angst of norm. She'd almost been cheery, of the little she remembered.

A ringing in her ears and she focused on the people opposite her. Blue and Tan, were the blurred colors, both of them rimmed in black. Their auras or their physicality? Even as she struggled to bring that thought to the forefront (what was that screaming? Was that her? Why was she screaming?), memories came flying back.

_She was a child, running in the park with her friend, her long blond braids flowing behind her as she embraced the frivolity and frenzy of childhood..._

She'd been in a limo; her thoughts slow as she listened to a fight. It was about her. The man wanted her to do something, and the woman didn't want her to. He was calm, but the woman hadn't been. Her voice loud and screeching, but the tone protective. After all these years of lies and betrayal, could it be that Mystique truly cared?

_...the training was hard on her body, genetically predisposed to being tall and skinny she'd fought for her muscles, both physical and psychic..._

Rogue lifted her head, shaking all over from some huge exertion that she couldn't yet remember. She wanted to stand, she knew that. She should be in a position of aggression, her fighting stance. Legs apart, hands at sides, fists curled, sneer on her face; she couldn't even stand.

_...a disguise had to be worn, for her protection they said. Mutant heroes must never reveal their identities, because it endangers everyone they know and love, and the government that employs her..._

Something was wrong, very wrong; she could hear screaming, but she knew now it wasn't her. It couldn't be her, her mouth was shut. It couldn't be Mesmero and Mystique, for they weren't speaking either. There was only one other person in the room, her prone figure laying beside her, unmoving and unscreaming.

_...she did her job, protected her country, and she hid her identity from all. She knew it was a country-wide policy for all mutant officers, but she always felt a small sense of shame when she put on her mask..._

She pulls herself to sitting position, leaning against the wall for support. She wants to reach for the woman beside her, to check for a pulse but something tells her it's futile without checking. Besides, she's not wearing her gloves.

_...they call her Miss Marvel..._

She remembers now. Even the blackouts aren't there anymore. She remembers all the touches, the imprints, the small betrayals. She remembers what's happened here, and she knows who is screaming.

_...her real name was Carol Danvers..._

She knows that Carol is screaming, just as she knows that neither Mystique nor Mesmero can hear it. It's her own personal demon, railing against her soul. A curse laid down by DNA, a punishment for past lives that she doesn't remember. Her skin is so pale it's almost luminescent, the veins pulsing beneath the skin clearly visible. Why does she go on despite all the bad things she'd done? Why hasn't God struck her down yet? Does he not care for the agony she endures?

_...they call her the Rogue..._

"What have you done?" Her voice so small at first that her two companions don't even hear it. "What have you done?" Stronger now, a thread of anger and despair lacing through it driving it into the minds of her mother and her kidnapper. "What have you done?!"

The yell faded from the room, destroyed as it was it doesn't echo from it. A fight, primal and uncontrolled had been raged here, woman versus woman, mutant versus mutant. More than ever, the edict that 'mutant is weapon' was proven here. Two guns firing at the same time, both shooters are taken down. Equal loss.

She whispered to herself, thoughts swirling into a black hole in her mind, the screams of her victim and herself mingling to become one solo wail. "What have you done?" She whispered over and over. She's not asking of Mesmero or Mystique any longer.

She's asking of herself. What kind of world is this place, that she can do these things and no one and nothing can stop her?

What kind of world indeed that she is denied the simplest comfort?

_...and she's falling to pieces..._

She wants to leave this place. To forget everything and everyone.

_To leave this world._

_To forget it all._

An edict set in stone of her mind, reaching for the maelstrom of mutant genes swirling inside her. Her own genes realigning themselves, unconsciously acting upon the mantra that has started in her mind.

_To leave this world.  
To forget it all._

Magnetic energy at her fingertips, healing factor repairing the bruises and contusions that blanket her body, telepathy to remove any threats. A shell of metal forms around her as she floats above the ground, still curled into a ball of self-defense. Mystique steps forward, finally realizing what's she done and perhaps even regretting it. She'll not get the chance to tell her daughter; neither shall Mesmero get the chance to reclaim the key to his master's domain. They're both rendered unconscious and without memory as soon as they advance on the rapidly constituting wormhole.

Teleportation genes mix with telekinetic genes mix with molecular manipulation. Her physical body becomes incorporeal, staying in a constitution of existence unlike any other that came before this time. The shell she's built keeps her in one place, lest her atoms scatter to the winds and she loses herself completely.

For all her horror and anguish, she doesn't want to die.

She just wants to forget.

In a flash of light so bright it's seen for miles, bringing rescue trucks and police (too late), the orb that holds her disappears.

The psychic aftermath of the release of energy from the hole in the wall in Washington D.C., where not one, but three bodies await recovery reaches across many a state, and even an ocean.

From his seat behind her desk, in the middle of some spontaneous speech to his X-Men and Magneto's Acolytes about the importance of finding Mesmero before it was too late, Professor Xavier stops. He doesn't gasp, he doesn't move an inch, he just stops. His mind feels the wave of energy and emotion that is rapidly flying across the globe. Every telepath in the Western hemisphere feels it, and soon others across the world will too.

It's the tinge of self-awareness that tells him from who it comes. The rhythm of the telepathy is too familiar, for it perfectly mimics his own. He turns to the window, knowing that all the others near him are confused, all but Jean. Together, they stand at that window and cast out with their minds. Together, they reach for the origin of the wave, seeking to find their friend and ally.

In sync, holding each others' hand, and each placing one on the window, they speak in tandem, not realizing that she's already too far away to feel them. "Rogue."

Ororo starts to step forward, only Logan's hand at her elbow keeping her from interrupting the impromptu mental search. "What's happened?"

Logan, more in tune to the psychic plane that he cares to admit, answered for the 'spooks'. "I'm thinking Rogue has tried to contact them."

What would be if only those in that room had felt the backlash of Rogue's great escape? Would it be that Sebastian Shaw hadn't had two very skilled telepaths with him in that moment?

Would it be a lot of things, however, it wasn't to be.

The Black King of the Hellfire Club listened with civil disinterest as his White Queen described the event to him. His interest was sparked, and without even knowing it, the X-Men entered what would become one of their most dangerous battles.


	2. There's Two of Us Waiting

**Chapter 2: There's Two of Us Waiting

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**

_Day Two_

Professor Xavier found himself in a bit of a conundrum, and not one of pleasing merit as he often found himself engaging in on Sunday afternoons. Rather, this one was most perplexing and personal to him.

Having sent two of the best mutant trackers the world over to follow Mystique (who remained capable of complete subterfuge), Mesmero (who could hide many things, but not his scent), and Rogue (normally capable of neither), Xavier fully expected that his X-Men, with the forced accompaniment of Magneto's Acolytes, would find his student and prevent the release of Apocalypse. He had not expected, however, for her to disappear without a trace.

It was feasible that Rogue, with her obvious control over imprinted abilities while under Mesmero's power, could use teleportation skills to elude her kidnappers, however, why had she not returned to the Institute? Indeed, why was she not registering on Cerebro at all?

The facts of this puzzle had only complicated further when just 17 hours ago, Wolverine, Sabretooth, and Gambit, another of Magneto's new Acolytes, had come across a buzzing crime scene. Watching from the shadows, the trio of mutants had observed both Mystique and Mesmero being carted away by ambulances...and another unknown body in a body bag being taken by the coroner.

Suffice it to say, instantly rumors to the effect that Rogue was dead spread through the Institute. However, Xavier was pleased to announce to his students within hours that the body was not Rogue, the description released by the media immediately discluded that (and his own contacts also avowed it). However, the body did appear to be the most extreme oddity of the case.

The remains appeared to have no reason to be 'remains'. Other than the fact of death, there seemed to be no reason for the unknown woman to have died. This fact alone caused Xavier much thought, and none of it was good. In fact, his suspicions were growing direr and direr.

In certain aspects of her life, Rogue was and always had been a fragile, if stubborn, girl.

As he'd thought just moments ago, the situation was most perplexing, and indeed, disturbing.

Using the controls to the right of his hand, Xavier turned his wheelchair to leave Cerebro, having exhausted himself for the second day in a row trying to find his wayward X-Man. He knew, without even scanning outside of the now burgeoning doors, that both Shadowcat and Nightcrawler were there. They, more than any of the others, had been closest to Rogue and felt bereaved of her presence more than any of the others.

"Did you sense anything?" Kitty asked as the light from the corridor fell upon the rapidly approaching Professor. He looked older than she'd last seen him, the toll of his search the world over showing. Still, the thought of finding her former roommate and current best friend had her salivating and impatient.

"I'm sorry, Kitty. The search will go on."

Her crestfallen face was more than enough to make him wish he'd stayed at it longer. Just a bit longer. "That's okay, Professor. I know you're trying," Kitty said, placing her hand on his shoulder. No 'like's or 'totally's in the entire sentence, proving just how serious the young girl was.

"_Ja_, Professor. We're all trying, but if Rogue doesn't want to be found..." Kurt left the rest of it unsaid. The sentence had two endings, in truth. Either Rogue didn't want to be found, or she was incapable of it. Sooner or later, Kurt would be reunited with his sister, but for his and Kitty's sake, he hoped it was sooner.

* * *

_Day Twelve_

The kitchen was dark, the only luminescence coming from a small overhead light above the stove. Even in the dimness, she stood out like a beacon. It might have been those icy blue eyes, it might've been her arctic white hair; whatever it was, she instantly drew his gaze. He always knew when she was in a room; sometimes he thought that even without his enhanced senses he would know.

Ororo had a way of making a room light up, even upon the worst of circumstances. Tonight was no exception.

Logan had just returned from one of his night patrols, more than ever obsessed with making sure the mansion was safe. Not that he trusted himself to do the job, anymore. He was Weapon X; a survivor of immense capability; yet he'd lost one of his own to the enemy.

Rogue had always had a soft spot in his heart, her and most of the females in the Institute. The boys, they could take care of themselves, but despite all the various abilities, Logan was a gentleman at heart. He believed and saw women as fragile creatures, ones that respected a man who wanted to protect and provide for him.

However, that might just be the primitive in him talking.

"Hey, 'Ro."

It was obvious she'd been too distracted to notice his entrance, jerking softly at his voice. She sniffled softly (the sound helping to explain the light rain that had been carrying on for the past hour), not turning as she returned the greeting. "Good evening, Logan. How was the perimeter?"

"As secure as I can make it," which wasn't saying much.

Storm smiled, he could tell by the way the rain lessened; he could also tell because he'd spent two years studying that smile. The attraction he felt wasn't illogical, or even unexpected. Ororo was the only adult female he encountered regularly, and indeed was quite an attractive one. Still, relationships on a team such as theirs didn't have a long survival rate, mostly due to the passion this work involved. One was never quite sure of the bonds that can be formed under duress, and often found them fickle. Logan may not have much of his past in memories, but some of the scars on his body (the few that lasted through his healing process, and indeed, were ever fading) told him stories of the things he'd done and had done to him. Several bore striking resemblance to nail scrapes. Very, very deep ones for them to leave such a memento for long.

Logan shook his head slightly, trying to draw his mind out of what was always a risky territory, his past. He opened the refrigerator automatically reaching for the beer that no longer was there. Just a few months ago, Xavier had banned Logan from keeping it in the main house (Bobby and Roberto had been feeling lucky and decided to sneak some, not realizing in their newness to the mansion that there was no such thing as "sneak" with a telepath). "You want something to drink, 'Ro?"

"Some water, if you would," her voice was soft, still shaky from her silent tears. It wasn't that she was crying for Rogue, though Goddess knows the soft-hearted African woman had. It was more that she was crying for the situation the X-Men now found themselves in. Rogue was the second X-Men to disappear from their lives in as many months. First Evan and now her, and Storm wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Logan wordlessly opened a bottle of spring water and handed it to her over the counter. In order for her to take it, she'd have to face him and he waited patiently. He wasn't disappointed.

Her eyes were red but enormous in her pale golden face, the blue of it so much deeper for the pale rose that rimmed it. She had her hair pulled back from her face, into a ponytail, several strands escaping to drift into her cheeks. She was, as usual, devastating in her regal gorgeousness. It had never been a mystery to him that some had considered her a Goddess. Hell, sometimes people still did.

"Has there been any change?" Logan asked of the unchanging tableau below. For almost two weeks now, first Xavier and now Jean as well had spent hour upon hour searching the globe for a trace of Rogue. In the land, in the air, in the minds of people everywhere. It was a large search, extremely debilitating for the two psychics. Perhaps they would not have been so determined had it not been for the peculiar circumstances. They knew she'd teleported somewhere, but the real question was where?

"Jean has retired to her quarters; Xavier has yet to awaken from his nap. I thought it prudent to allow this brief rest. They're pushing themselves too hard." Ororo clenched her hand around the glass bottle she held, cracking the glass around the rim slightly. Logan cautiously removed it from her hand.

"They're not the only ones."

She smiled a small one but real. "No, they are not."

"How many Danger Room sessions are they having daily now?"

"Scott has mandated at least three."

"They ain't dead, yet?"

"I'm surprised they have not complained yet."

Logan nodded, slightly amused by the tenacity with which the older X-Men and the younger recruits now took to their learnings. "What about Magneto's crew?"

Ororo closed her eyes, begging the Goddess for patience. "They are still here. Despite Magneto's vow to remove himself from the Mansion and the search, he remains."

"I think Chuck might have gotten to him."

"Perhaps," Ororo replied, taking a seat at the table, sighing as she sat. While most of the past couple of weeks had been unsettling and often tense, the Acolytes had proven to be a mood-lightener. Between Gambit's flirting, Pyro's fire-antics, and Colossus's quiet serenity, many of the X-Men found themselves begrudgingly starting to like them.

Certainly, with the exclusion of Magneto and Sabretooth, the Acolytes were taking to the life of the Institute. Cyclops had even allowed himself to be convinced to let them join in one Danger Room session a day. Storm had overseen the first session herself, and had seen that if not for Magneto's constant criticisms, the trio of mutants fit into the scheme of X-Men just fine.

Xavier, though distracted, had seen as well. Between hours of Cerebro, he'd taken to speaking with Magneto at length, trying again as he had before to convince the Magnetic Master to join him in his crusade. As yet, Magneto had made no promises...however, he'd not said nay either.

Ororo viewed the situation as she would a game of poker, and all the players were holding their cards close to chest.

"'Ro? Ororo?"

She imagined he'd been calling her name for several minutes, given the look of concern on his face. "Yes, Logan?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. A bit tired. I think I shall return to bed now."

Logan nodded and watched her go, before turning to the same bank of windows she'd stared out of. He would not sleep tonight, instead again standing sentinel over the mutants he'd come to care for. This was home.


	3. Three Kisses Past Midnight

**Chapter 3: Three Kisses Past Midnight

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**

_Day Nineteen_

If Wolverine found him in here, he would be skewered for sure. Despite that healthy dose of fear, Gambit couldn't resist. It was one of the few places in the mansion he'd yet to charm/break/sneak into. Rogue's room.

He knew through the grapevine/history-buff/X-Man-in-training Jubilee that Rogue and Shadowcat had been roommates for a year and some change before the Day of Awakening, the same day he'd met the X-Men for the first time. After that, many aspects of mutant-life had changed, not the least for the students here. Gambit didn't feel guilty for his part in that day, couldn't possibly. He'd been doing a job, pure and simple, and no one could begrudge him that.

As he slipped in the window, the curtains billowing inward from the rush of wind, Gambit slid to a halt in the shadows, the only sign of his presence those demonic cat eyes that glowed red in the dark. He'd never be visually impaired by light, said eyes made it quite easy for him to see with or without it.

The room was just as the girl had left it, oddly straight yet still cluttered. He'd figured her for a rigid organizer, with a place for everything and everything its place. He'd been wrong. Delightfully wrong, Gambit thought to himself as he toed a pair of lacy undergarments out of his way with the toe of his boot. Black lace on a Goth? How unexpected, he sarcastically thought as he rounded the room.

Her dresser was covered with make-up, again, big surprise. However, the ballerina music box that sat there as well did surprise him, though he wondered why. Every girl had a soft underbelly, full of hidden secrets and mysteries begging to be tickled and kissed out of her. Why would the Rogue be any different?

If anything, all this room was telling him was that she was just like any other girl, hidden in a shell of tragic proportion. Such a beauty, never to be touched, Gambit viewed it as a sin of God.

Her music collection could use work, he mused as he sifted through it, halting as he came to a sudden shift in genre. From Marilyn Manson and Earshot to Damien Rice and José González? From things he'd never buy to CDs he owned? Now there was a surprise.

What was the heavy-metal lovin', motorcycle ridin', Southern Girl doing listening to Folk Music?

For that matter, was the Poker-playin', mischief-makin', Ragin' Cajun doing listening to it?

As his papa might say back in New Orleans "Good music is good music."

Why he'd felt the urge to come into this sanctum of her's, he couldn't tell you. After weeks of listening to people speak of her, and comparing them to the two memories he had of her, was it any wonder he wanted to know more? She was an enigma to him. Twenty mutants, including his own boss, intent on finding her. Why? For the sake of finding her, or was she important somehow?

Gambit knew that they all used the excuse of Apocalypse, the reasoning that they had to prevent something that had yet to happen, and without Mesmero's aid, was unlikely to.

There was love here, though. The students, the faculty, the X-Men. They loved this girl, this untouchable being of darkness and light, for all her faults. Gambit had never achieved such a thing, for all his easy laughs and hard falls, after a while no one really wanted the trickster around. Not even his family.

Sighing, Gambit took his thoughts from his own sordid past and concentrated on finding Rogue's. Perhaps, in his own mind, if he could find a fault in her, something to prove that these people didn't really know her, couldn't love her for the person that she was, problems and all; then maybe it wasn't his fault he'd never found happiness and a place to call home.

Instead, all he found were pictures of her family and friends, small ironically cute knick knacks hidden away in random places, and a scent that promised to stay in his mind for days.

She hadn't been perfect, far from it from what these people here told him, but she had been loved. Very much.

* * *

_Day Twenty Five_

The others were outside training and playing, their minds already subconsciously easing into a rhythm of regularity, trying to find a way to exist within this unknowing state of life of current. Kitty watched them from the living room window, sighing as she realized, once again, she was not in the mood to join them.

Almost a month and no clues, no sightings, no hints, no nothing. It was driving Kitty up the wall. She was so intent on studying the happy faces of her friends and teammates that she failed to notice the other person in the room, who was silently studying her face as he idly began to draw.

"You should join them."

The soft but gravelly voice came from across the room, but it didn't startle her. Nothing startled her so much anymore. It was as if she was going numb, and she didn't know how to stop the process. "I'm not interested in sports right now."

"You're not interested in much of anything."

He had a slight accent, not word-marring, but just enough to make some consonants harder than others. Contrary to Rocky and Bullwinkle, he didn't look like a short, stout mustached Commie either. In fact, he was quite cute, in a stalwart sort of way.

"No, I haven't been," she conceded, turning away from the happy picture in front of her to look at Colossus as they spoke. "You don't join in the reindeer games either."

"Pardon?" He said, his dark blue eyes locking onto her's as the somewhat joke fell flat.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head from side to side, sending her hair cascading about her shoulders. "Why aren't you out there too?"

"I never was one for contact sports," he replied, referring to the tag football most of the X-Men and new recruits had started just moments ago, even dragging in a few of the teachers and Acolytes (though Kitty doubted Pyro was supposed to be tagging people with fire). "It was my impression, last time that we...met, that you were not a normally morose person."

He was, of course, referring to the time she'd perkily and with much glee had phased him into a building which proceeded to fall on him. Trust mutants to not hold a grudge about such a thing, though a baseline human might.

Kitty smiled, just thinking of it, "I'm not. Ironically, that was the first time Rogue went missing. She got tagged when the Sentinel broke loose."

Piotr nodded, adding a few more definitions to his art, rapidly understanding just what had possessed him to pick her as his muse. "You miss her."

"I do. I miss the way things were before that day. I knew with Scott and-...with Cyclops and Jean going off to college that things would be different, but I always thought I'd at least have Rogue here to help me through it. Now it seems I won't even have her."

"You must not give up hope, Katya. It is all we have."

She wandered closer, wondering what he was drawing so intently. She'd noticed him, during meals and the lazy summer days. He often was drawing, or painting, or even gardening. He was a large man, his hands almost oafish in size, but they were gentle. It was a contrast the woman in Kitty could appreciate. "What's Katya?"

Colossus smiled. "It is your name. In my language."

She grinned. She liked the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. "It's unfair that you know my name, yet I don't know yours."

He looked up, surprised at her question. He'd never thought that anyone would care to learn it, given that he was the enemy. "My name is Piotr. Piotr Rasputin."

Kitty had gotten close enough to see what he was drawing, and close enough to hold out her hand for him to shake. "Hello, Piotr."

"Hello, Katya," he replied with a shy smile, holding the tablet to his chest so she couldn't peak as he grasped her hand in the softest of touches. He was afraid of the power he wielded in those hands, Kitty could tell, afraid of hurting someone or something accidentally. It made her just that much more curious about him.

"What are you drawing?"

Piotr smiled, deciding to let her in on the secret. He angled it so that she could tell what it was; her own face. "You looked so sad at that window that I could not help myself."

"Don't apologize," Kitty said as she studied the face that looked as if it were carved from stone, her features stiff with misery as she looked upon such happiness. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you, I had a beautiful subject."

Kitty blushed and straightened. "Thank you."

They stood there, in silence staring each other down, still affably content in this tableau of theirs. It was only the sound of many pounding feet and whoops of joy and anger of the entering teens that had them slipping away from each other, trying to avoid being ambushed by the rambuctious housemates.

* * *

_Day Thirty_

The water of the coast was dirty and dangerous. Riptides had a habit of pulling the surfers and swimmers out very far very fast. Add into that the rocky shoreline and frequent cliffs, one would think people were smart enough to avoid the place. However, there was a small beach there, beautiful in its isolation and pristine disuse. In the night, it looked like a beacon of light for the lone swimmer that reached for it.

She was tired, anticipatory of the things she had to do, and afraid of the people she didn't want to see. She would follow her orders for the good of mankind, but she didn't have to like them, and indeed wouldn't. Given a choice, she'd never have come back here, to this time. She'd struggled so hard to forget her memories, to start a new life with a new purpose, only to find that the past is never gone, only waiting to drag one back down.

Avoiding the jagged surfaces that broke the water every few seconds, she pulled herself onto the white sand, struggling to keep it out of her eyes and mouth. Her clothing was soaked, if one could call green and yellow spandex clothing. Her hair, what there was of it, was plastered to her head. It was thankfully short enough to not get into her eyes, unlike the sand that even now was being wind-driven into them.

She grimaced, and pulled herself farther ashore. She had no idea why the Powers That Be had chosen this place for transition, but she was not in a position to bitch about it, given that the Powers That Be wouldn't even exist for another thirty years.

Laying there, staring into countless stars and a quarter-full moon, Rogue idly pressed a button hidden behind the curve of her ear. Inside that same ear, via a transplanted communications device, static bloomed. She pressed that same button twice and waited for the signal to connect.

There would be only two other signals on this planet keyed to this frequency, if their own transitions went as well as her own. Her two partners, equally dragged into this mess as she had been.

The dual clicks informed the drenched mutant that indeed, their signals were alive and kicking. Pressing the button one more time, Rogue began to speak, "Alpha Bishop and Beta Pulse, archive locations."

"Beta Pulse, location...well, Hell, Rogue I don't know. I'm somewhere in fucking Australia. What a hell hole, no wonder they're gonna nuke the place." The deep voice, surprisingly smooth over the signal was muttering about his dislike of his transition location, but Rogue easily tuned him out. She'd gotten used to his whining.

Bishop's voice was just as deep and a whole lot rougher. "Alpha Bishop, location Moscow, Russia."

"Alpha Rogue, location Cabo San Lucas, California. We'll converge at Gamma Location, New York, New York. Twenty hours," Rogue stated, immediately ending the signal. It wouldn't do to let their enemies know of their location or intended one so soon in the game.

She stood, trying to brush the sand from her uniform and turning to the road. Just as a vehicle turned down the windy road that flew past the small slice of paradise, Rogue reached out mentally and caused the driver to pull over. Ignoring the wet clothing and the sand, she opened the driver's door, mentally telling the woman driver to move over into the passenger seat. In a zombie-like state, she did, and Rogue began her trek across country.

Very close to that place across country, alarms began to ring, drawing attention from breakfast that now blanketed the dining room table. People stood and wandered down to watch as their leader studied the large computer's readout, and soon, people began to cry in relief as what had been a terrible ordeal for all seemingly came to an end.

Seemingly.


	4. These Four Walls

**Chapter 4: These Four Walls

* * *

**

The beach was just as beautiful in the daylight as it was in the night, though the X-Men didn't know that. They arrived in California three hours after the alarm had disturbed them all at breakfast in Bayville, and three hours too late.

Studying the solo set of footprints leading from the water to the road, Wolverine stifled the urge to sniff the air like the animal that hid deep inside his mind. Besides being completely unnecessary (he could smell just as well standing there as he could with his nose stuck out), it might also alarm the passersby that were even now studying the motley crew of mutants (the uniforms might have tipped them off).

Sabretooth was less concerned with appearances. On all fours, taking large deep breaths just inches from the sand, he reminded everyone of an overly large pussy cat. Not that anyone would tell him that.

Magneto gestured and Sabretooth stood, shaking his head to indicate that scent wasn't fresh. "Charles, she was here."

Professor Xavier, hovering just above the pitted sand by the force of Magneto's power, was concentrating on the area, trying to find a psychic trace of Rogue. People, and particularly mutants, tended to leave an imprint (much like Rogue's own power) on the psychic plane. Sometimes it was much like a fingerprint or a writing of "I was here"; sometimes it was more like a written manifesto of memory, an outpouring of intense emotion and intention. While the former was common, the latter was rare and took a particularly powerful mind to leave such.

Fortunately for the X-Men, Rogue was indeed very powerful and also somewhat rushed to get where she meant to go. Otherwise, she wouldn't have used a telepath's power to get there and left a rather significant chunk of her thoughts echoing behind. As it was, Charles Xavier felt that reverberation moving amongst the rocks near the road but couldn't quite fathom what it was. Rogue had used some of the abilities she'd imprinted, but how could it be that even without Mystique and Mesmero's aid, she could still harness them?

Gesturing that he'd like to venture to the road, Xavier waited patiently for the oddly smooth magnetic flows to move him. Jean walked behind him, feeling the same echo he did and also curious as to its origin. Clasping hands they concentrated on it, trying to metaphysically entice it from its shell.

Near the shoreline, Shadowcat playfully splashed some water at Colossus, who in full metal mode didn't even feel it. It was only her loud giggles that drew his attention. "What is it?"

Her face pleasantly blushed in the sunlight; she ignored the curious glances of her teammates and stepped closer to the larger than life man beside her. Literally, larger than life; when sheathed in his metal skin he gained another foot on her own mere five feet (in addition to the one he'd already had!). "If you got wet, would you rust?

"Pardon?" He asked, his surprise showing clearly even in the mostly immobile steel skin.

Kitty laughed, splashing him with a bit more water. "Here's a better question, where do your pants go when shift?"

Piotr smiled and shrugged. "I could not tell you."

"Is it a secret?"

"Why are you so curious about my pants?" Piotr asked with a side glance, turning to start a slow and awkwardly heavy walk through the sands. Magneto had told him to patrol the make-shift 'perimeter' but there was little to patrol. Nothing was coming from the sea, and Cyclops and Pyro were watching the road. Nightcrawler and Shadowcat were supposed to be watching the cliffs that surrounded them, but obviously one of them wasn't doing just that. If she'd been on Magneto's team, he'd have punished her-a thought that sobered Colossus immediately. He did not like Magneto, but just the thought of any man laying a violent hand on the petite girl at his side had his hands clenching.

Kitty halted her own oddly floating walk and stared at him. "I'm not." Her blush made a mockery of her words.

"If you say so, Katya," however, it was a good thing Colossus was wearing his metal skin, otherwise she might notice his own blush.

Somewhere not far above, Nightcrawler was busy teleporting in five foot distances, all along the ridges. It was a pattern he and the Professor had discussed for search and rescue, but it was also of use in a security detail. His mind wasn't on this mission, however, so for all his disappearing and reappearing in strategic places, he wasn't taking note of any of the details or any threats.

What Kurt was doing, however, was focusing on the cell phone in his hand. Not strictly allowed on missions, he had nonetheless brought it. He was concerned for finding his sister, don't mistake it, however now that he knew without a doubt that she was alive and somewhere close, he could let his own personal demons have a bit of attention as well. Specifically, the demon called "first love".

Amanda, his high school sweetheart, was currently forbidden by her parents' from seeing him. Despite her vows that it would have no impact on their relationship, more and more he saw and spoke to her less. It was a bad situation, bound to get worse.

Gambit saw all of this as he perched on one of the large shore bound rocks, idly shuffling a deck of cards. He took note of it all, mentally calculating who was doing what, why, and how he could use it against them. Though the budding crush between Colossus and Shadowcat was interesting, and the teen angst expressions from Kurt amusing, it was the ordeal embarking nearby that drew his attention. It seemed that Xavier and Jean had found something.

Releasing the hands they held, both Jean and Xavier settled themselves back into the physical realm. Telepaths, pleasantly nicknamed spooks, had a tendency to lose that connection to the Earth when concentrating on using their abilities. It was one of the reasons why Jean often was in the air when she fought. Not for the strategical value of such a move, but because the effort put into it would make her fall to the ground if she was on it. For Xavier, he had no such problem, and could merely slump into his wheelchair.

Gambit caught Jean as she started to slide towards the sand. Cyclops, glare at ready, braced Jean around her waist and took over holding her up. Gambit, affable as always, stepped back, hands up, eyes hidden behind mirror-shaded sunglasses. "Di'n' mean to intrude, _mon ami_."

Cyclops grinned back (but it wasn't a nice grin). "You didn't." Scott turned his attention to Jean, gently tilting her head back to look into her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Sorry, Scott, it just took a bit out of me," she explained, but still didn't step back. High school seemed like so long ago, though it'd been little more than a month. She and Scott had spent much of that time together, supporting each other through this crisis of sorts. Scott, the leader of the X-Men, took Rogue's kidnapping and subsequent disappearance very personally.

Could Jean really be blamed for being just a tad jealous of Rogue? After all, Rogue had always been a soft-spot in Scott, who despite his massive crush on Jean, had also made time for the younger girl with a crush on him.

Jean stepped away and turned to the other X-Men and Acolytes, now all gathered around her and the Professor. "We picked up a few of her thoughts when she was here."

Xavier nodded. "I sense...she was going somewhere. New York, I think."

"Was _meine Schwester_ coming home?" Kurt asked, teleporting to the front of the small crowd.

Xavier reached over and took Kurt's three-fingered hand in his own. "I'm sorry, but that's not the impression that I got. I can't make out the 'why's or the 'where's, but that's where she's going."

"I might be able to help with that, Professor. I think," Jean hesitated looking at her friends and the strangers surrounding her, "I think she's looking for something. Something really important. What she's looking for, however, I don't know."

Xavier nodded. "Wolverine," he called, "I want you to start tracking Rogue from here. We'll try to meet her on the other end of her journey."

Magneto stepped forward. "I think it best if we have more than one tracker on her trail. Sabretooth, Gambit, you track her as well."

Xavier, with no patience for argument now, nodded. "That's fine. X-Men, back to the jet."

Gambit watched as all the children scampered back to the air-vehicle, leaving him stranded on the other side of country with no means of transportation. "Um, Gambit hates to be the bearer of bad news, but how we gon' track de fille with no wheels?"

Wolverine grinned, pulling a small communications device from some hidden pocket. "Leave that to me."

* * *

She was speeding on an open desert road, sun blazing above and the dry wind making her yearn for a bottle of water when she first felt the tingling of a presence. Whipping the '54 Firebird off the deserted road, Rogue braced her hands against the steering wheel and slammed the impenetrable glass wall up in her mind, shielding herself.

Some might wonder about her choice of a visual; most telepaths and non-telepaths preferred to use the texture of stone or metal when envisioning their mental shield. Rogue found glass more conducive to identifying who was trying to see in.

Rogue's psyche, looking much the same as Rogue did now, with longer hair and minus her tattoo, stood at the edge of her shield, staring through the transparent yet hardy shield to the outside. Normally an inky black, now the glass was awash in a sea of white fog. Even as her mental form watched, the fog began to take a shape. The shape of a royal crown. Feminine, full of swirls and arches, almost touchable in the density of the fog. Then slowly two large blazingly white eyes opened beneath the crown, staring right at Rogue.

The gaze was so intense that Rogue brought herself from the inside of her mind, hardening her mental shield until she could feel the texture of rock biting into the corners of her mind. No one would be entering it, not anytime soon. She could feel the presence continuing to watch; waiting for a weak moment to attack fully but Rogue did not intend to give one.

Shifting the car back into drive, Rogue spared a glance for woman unconscious beside her, grateful for the "loan" of her car, and she made a note to switch cars at the next town. She'd wipe the woman's memory; leave her with a blank spot and the vague idea of little green men; the better to confuse the authorities or any superhero who came seeking.

The watcher followed Rogue all the way Oklahoma City before disappearing.


	5. Five Feet High and Rising

**Chapter 5: Five Feet High and Rising

* * *

**

_Oklahoma City, Oklahoma_

The trio sat at one of the booths, all three of them coolly watching both exits and everyone currently in the bar (which wasn't much). If the Caveman's teeth and the Cajun's eyes hadn't told her they were mutants, then the way the Canuck opened his beer can with his metal claws did. They squabbled like children as they debated what they wanted to eat, scaring off the porter who brought their drinks in favor of the very attractive and curvy waitress even now making her way over.

She smiled broadly, a small gap between her front teeth immediately endearing her to the giant Hillbilly Pussycat; her very large breasts didn't quite endear her to the Ragin' Cajun, but it came damn close. Wolverine was enamored of nothing.

"Hi, I'm your waitress Marian. Do you need a few more minutes or would you like me to take your order now?"

Logan growled as he took in the menu, sparse in variety but seemingly (by the smell) good in quality. "Extra large supreme pizza."

Marian noted that on her small pad of paper, looking completely adorable as she scrunched up her nose and concentrated. Gambit found the expression cute, but also sensed something underneath the surface of the "ditzy waitress" act. Not many people knew of his empathic abilities, and he preferred to keep it that way; it came in use to have a secret weapon in times like these.

Logan was restless, eager to get on the road again. Sabretooth was hungry and more than a little ready to beat Wolverine down for no apparent reason. The girl, however, was silent. Despite the smile and the welcoming glint in her eyes as she stood at the table, Gambit felt nothing from her. No emotion, no thoughts, no intentions; just a blank slate. That, more than the filled-out blouse and pouty lips drew his attention.

Sabretooth licked his lips. "I'll take the same."

She looked surprised by the thought that an extra-large pizza wouldn't fill them all up, but shrugged and wrote it down beside the first order. Not willing to chance that he too didn't want something, she inclined her head to him, pen at ready.

Gambit took her hand from where she held the pen, laying said writing utensil aside as he kissed the back of her hand gallantly. "Marian is a beautiful name, _chère_."

She tittered and took her hand back, swiping the pen as she did so. She blushed as she giggled, making her blue eyes sparkle. "Thanks. I was named for Maid Marian, of Robin Hood."

Gambit grinned and took a second to wonder to himself. Physical contact had not heightened his awareness of her emotions either. "Well, _chère_, I t'ink I be havin' a burger. Medium-well."

Marian popped her gum and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, leaning into the table so that she could better look at the very attractive mutant. "You want fries with that, sugah?"

Was it his imagination, or had she just had a Southern twang in her voice? As she looked at him expectedly, and a bit lustfully (he had that effect on women), Gambit shook his head. "_Non_, I be good."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Marian whispered before twirling around and heading for the kitchen. Gambit had to admit, he was tempted by the woman, especially when she walked away in those teeny tiny jean shorts of hers. There was something familiar about her, that he couldn't put his finger on; alas, his attention was needed elsewhere so he tuned back into his companions' and their conversation/argument.

"...Chuck said her mutant signal was still heading Northeast. After this, we'll get back on the road and try to pick up her scent trail again."

Sabretooth grinned. "Don't think I've ever heard of the great Weapon X losing a scent."

Logan glared. "You never even had it, bub."

"Boys, boys, boys, let's play nice, _oui_?"

Logan rolled his eyes, sniffing the air as the scent of rapidly heating dough spread through the mostly deserted bar. "You done flirting, Cajun, or you want me to call her back?"

Gambit was opening his mouth, ready to release a scathing retort involving Logan and the oh-so-delectable Ororo when he felt the first tingle in the back of his mind. It wasn't the back of his mind, per se, but rather the subconscious. He wouldn't have even noticed had he not been practicing his empath skills on Marian just seconds earlier. As it was, Gambit ignored the continued bickering of the two so-alike mutants and focused on that tingle.

It wasn't an invasion so much as a request. Small fingers of telepathy poked at his psyche, almost child-like in curiosity. Before Gambit could do more than tighten his shields just a bit, those child-like fingers became spears of danger and slammed through. Gambit's hands flew to his forehead as the psychic bore into his memories, flipping through them like the pages of a book. Logan reached for the mutant's hands, trying to see what had happened but before he could lay a hand on him, Gambit relaxed.

Letting the mutant go at it with his memories, he began to trace the path of invasion. It wasn't something most telepaths could do without aid of technology; as an empath he could sense where the energy was coming from however. Most people, including many mutants, made the mistake of thinking a telepath and an empath were the same thing. They weren't.

The assault ended abruptly, almost as if she was aware she'd been caught. Gambit knew who it was by then, and stood from the table without explanation. Logan and Sabretooth watched as the lanky boy walked across the room and went behind the bar, into the kitchen. With only a shrug, neither could really explain his actions, though Logan surmised that Gambit was going to flirt some more with the waitress.

"You wanna arm wrestle?" Sabretooth asked with a blood-thirsty grin, very much implying that he'd like to wrestle Logan's arm off his body and beat him to death with it. Logan grinned, when would the idiot learn that he couldn't beat the Wolverine?

"You're on."

Gambit found the waitress standing beside an oven, impatiently watching the timer. "Don' you s'posed to have a cook to do dat?"

Marian grinned over her shoulder, letting her bright blonde hair shield half of her face mysteriously. "Darlin', you're looking at the cook."

"You could do better, _chère_."

She shrugged and reached for a long paddle to remove the pizzas. It was a struggle for the petite girl, as she was about a foot shorter than the oven, and Gambit didn't help. Instead, he watched and studied her, trying to figure out where he knew her from, using this new information to narrow the field of possibilities. One-night-stand? Childhood friend? Spy?

"Did Magneto send you? He di'n' t'ink Gambit and Kitty Cat were enough to keep Wolverine in line?"

Marian popped her gun and started to cut Logan and Sabretooth's pizzas, watching him from the corner of her eye. "Who's Magneto? And for that matter, who's Gambit, Kitty Cat, or Wolverine?"

"You're a mutant."

"So are you."

Marian smiled, hefting the tray now laden with the food onto her shoulder. "No. I'm a waitress."

Gambit let her pass, waiting until she'd delivered his food, and others', still standing in the doorway when she returned. She paused just as she passed him, her blue eyes telling him she'd seen things in his soul he'd never wanted anyone to see.

Gambit pressed a card into her hand, a business card with Xavier's School for the Gifted written on it, as well as a private number. "If you need anything, call here. They'll help."

Marian watched as he started to walk away, hands in trench coat pockets, no doubt playing with his cards (not a euphemism). "Remy?"

He turned, not shocked that she knew his name.

"You're not a good man. This was surprisingly kind though."

Remy, nee Gambit, nodded, letting a bit of that LeBeau charm flash in those demonic eyes of his. "If you ever just need something to keep you warm at night," he threw her another card, this one red and blank but for a number etched in black, "you can reach me there."

She grinned and let him get away with that, fingering both cards as she returned to 'work'. It surprised her that he would do something like give her Xavier's card. She'd imagined him being ruthless, not the least bit interested in anyone else's welfare. His number, she'd expected; Magneto's number, also expected. To give her Xavier's number made her re-evaluate the judgments she'd made on him and his character from her in-depth examination of his mind.

As it was, Marian didn't speak to him again that evening. Instead, she pretended to be busy, avoiding his and his companions' eyesight as she tallied their tab and received payment. It was only when they swung onto their motorcycles (she noted the S.H.I.E.L.D. codes written on the side and concluded that Logan had called in a favor with Fury), that she left the bar to watch them depart from the shadows.

Gambit was very attractive, Marian thought to herself as she twirled her hair on her finger. He was tall, but skinny, yet still muscled; able to slide through the cracks of any security system. His mind was organized and as hard to crack as a rock. He'd been trained by someone to have that kind of security in place, but try as she may, she hadn't been able to dig deep enough to get a name.

She'd found what she wanted, however, and as the mutant mercenaries disappeared down the highway she stepped away from the building. With a wave of her fingers, the bar and all the patrons inside disappeared, taking the parking lot and the cars that were there with them. An illusion, heavily built with layers of complication, used as a ploy to get close enough to gather a little information before New York.

With another wave of her fingers, the "Marian" persona and physicality slipped away, slowly morphing back into her own natural form of Rogue. She shook her head, trying to lose the psyche of Marian (one of her own making) and to step back into her own personality. It was a difficult transition, mostly because she'd stayed in it too long. An hour in a different psyche was the most she usually managed, but after Logan and Sabretooth had arm wrestled each other (Logan won), they'd had to arm wrestle every other guy in the bar, leading her into three hours of blonde bimbo hell.

It would have been far easier to simple attack the trio and imprint the information from them, but Rogue tried hard to avoid doing that. Since that incident with Ms. Marvel, Rogue hadn't imprinted another person and wanted to keep it that way.

Walking softly over rough dirt ground that collared the highway, Rogue stuck out her thumb and waited for some unsuspecting idiot to pull over and give her a ride, not knowing she'd be _taking_ their ride. It was time to stop fooling around and to get to New York. Her mission waited.


	6. Jumping From Six to Six

**Chapter 6: Jumpin' From Six to Six

* * *

**

_Bayville, New York_

The sunrise was a glorious way to begin the new day, Charles Xavier thought to himself. The view from his office overlooking the nearby cliffs and the farther outlaying Atlantic Ocean was magnificent. For the first time in a month, he was close enough to a state of relaxation to enjoy it.

At his side, Ororo sighed and also enjoyed the visage before her. She was as relieved as he that they would soon have Rogue back in their midst. She started to speak, comment on how morale amongst the students had boosted enormously, though the rising animosity between Magneto and Xavier dragged it back down again, when the phone on the desk rang.

Since Charles was comfortably ensconced at the window, Ororo took it upon herself to walk over and answer it. At six a.m. on a Sunday morning, she had no clue as to who it could be.

With a smile in her voice, if not on her face, she answered in as professional a voice as she could. "Xavier's School for the Gifted."

Listening intently to the voice that answered quickly and with great demand, Ororo set the phone on the desk and turned to her mentor and friend. "Colonel Fury would like to speak to you. He says it's urgent."

* * *

_New York City, New York_

_Day 36537_

It appeared above the city in a blaze of light that had everyone looking up. Humans, Mutants, Emplates, and Sentinels all stilled their battles for just a moment to take in the sudden and unexpected arrival of something powerful on their otherwise baseline radar. Thoughts swirled, danger, threat, miracle, attack?

X.S.E. Officer Bishop had no patience for thinking out situations and planning out approaches, so when he was alerted to the unplanned arrival of a ship of some sort into Earth's atmosphere, he didn't bother to contact his superior for approval to approach the vessel.

His instinctual reaction was to reach for his gun and to go in guns blazing. However, if it indeed was a Shi'ar attack vessel, this not only would be foolish, but also deadly. Neither his bullets nor his energy blasts would make a dent in one of their vessels.

Instead, he tagged his partner to meet him at the highest point in the city and started the long trek downtown. Current news reports were tracking the source of the light and also noted that spooks world-wide were reporting tidal-wave sized ripples on the psychic plane, causing migraines everywhere.

Bishop's own headache was as much a product of lack of sleep as it was from the abysmal decision of a partner he'd been assigned.

X.S.E. Officer Trevor Fitzroy was waiting for him on the roof of Worthington Enterprises when Bishop arrived. Together, they stood at the edge and watched the oddly dilating light that emanated from several dozen feet above and to the west. Fitzroy cracked his knuckles (something Bishop hated) and turned to his much taller, much darker, and much more dangerous partner. "What do you think? Sensors say it's not registered. No one can get a good look either. The Jumpers can't get close, the Spooks can't get a good read, and the humans try to get close with their ships but a serious negative magnetic field stops them at a mile away."

Bishop ignored Fitzroy, one of the so-named "Jumpers". He himself was a "Blaster" capable of storing and releasing energy in a thoroughly violent way that he preferred to use as a last resort in tense situations. Even in this day and age, mutants weren't necessarily a welcome ingredient in most boiling pots.

Boiling pots being the atmosphere of the era, all over Earth, Bishop knew better than to assume that not using his mutant abilities would make him incognito among the populace. The large "M" tattooed over his right eye pretty much guaranteed that any stranger he passed would know what he was, and were at least partially grateful for the warning, no matter how politically incorrect the concentration camps and branding were now deemed by society.

"I'm not thinking anything, Fitzroy. We wait until we have confirmation of what it is before we attempt contact."

"What if it's some new Shi'ar weapon? Hesitating could mean danger. Death."

Bishop grinned. "If it is, we'll just send you back in time to tell me what it is, so we can then approach it and stop the threat."

Fitzroy shut up after that, and they spent several surprisingly peaceful moments on top of the last remaining skyscraper in New York. The strength of the wind surprised both men and had them concentrating on not falling off said roof, causing them to not notice when the light that brightened the night's sky suddenly began to fade.

As the stars became once more visible, they looked out over the roof's edge and for a second thought the entire thing had disappeared. However, the glint of moonlight on metal gave the vessel away.

Drawing their guns, the two men aimed at the craft, watching as it slowly began to travel toward them. When it was above them, Bishop noted that it was spherical, appearing very much seamless.

It hovered above them, shining with an internal light yet nowhere near as blinding as before. Inside, a small figure made not-quite shadows on the walls of the vessel. Bishop stepped forward, freezing in his steps when unexpected hint of red came into the light, clearly a warning.

Fitzroy followed Bishop's steps, stopping just an inch or two behind him. "What is it?"

Bishop shrugged and holstered his gun. "I don't know."

Suddenly, both men felt a piercing wave of telepathy scan their minds. Both were trained by the most powerful telepaths on Earth, and both had shields they and their superiors thought impenetrable, yet it didn't stop this invasion from getting in and past all defenses.

No stone was left unturned, and they collapsed to their knees as it continued on for several minutes. Every memory, every deed (good or bad), and every emotion of their lives was replayed in their minds and in the mind of their attacker. What she was looking for, they could only wait to find out.

Finally, it stopped and they could breathe again. While she'd stopped perusing their thoughts, she was still there in their minds.

Bishop felt what could only be described as a gentle brush through his mind, and his headache instantly disappeared. He looked at the orb before him with bloodshot eyes, watching as a seam not previously there appeared and began to open. At first, all he saw was bright light, blinding in intensity.

Then, so slowly, a shadow began to appear. Even as the metal of the shell began to collapse upon itself, a figure began to form inside. Clearly a woman, and not wearing clothes, Bishop ignored both of those facts and concentrated on her face. It wasn't someone he knew, though he recognized her race as either that of human or mutant. The lack of a Mutant Tag on her face however, made him lean more toward human.

With the shell of metal gone, and the light still surrounding the girl, he took steps forward, trying to touch her and verify that she was no illusion. His partner's hand wrapped around his wrist kept him from going more than a few feet. "Don't."

Bishop turned, staring at Fitzroy and noting just how pale and shaky he was. The telepath had done nothing to help with _his_ headache. "Don't what?"

"Don't go near that thing. It's dangerous. Call in back-up."

He laughed, and enjoyed just a bit the grimace that crossed Fitzroy's face as the sound grated on sensitive nerve endings. "It's just a girl. She's not dangerous."

"You don't know what that thing is."

He opened his mouth to speak, to note that she looked human, when the presence in his mind, still there, sent an echoing thought through his sore mind. _Don't trust him._

Bishop turned to look at the girl again, with more interest. Perhaps she was not so human after all. "Call in back-up, I'll stay here."

Fitzroy took his chance to run and did it quickly, grabbing up his communicator as he did so. The telepath had rifled through his memories and his dreams, and some of his nightmares. After he informed headquarters that Bishop needed help, he had to get out of here fast. There was no telling what'd she'd tell Bishop, and Fitzroy had enough secrets to know that he didn't want to be around when she did.

Even as he conjured up a portal, drawing on the energy of the two people above him on the roof, Fitzroy was discarding all X.S.E. trackers, devices, and clothing. He had to collect something before he truly ran, and he didn't want his old friends interfering.

Bishop, with no clue as to what his now former partner was doing, still felt the drag of Fitzroy's power. However, as an energy absorber, he had plenty stored up to share. The girl before him did not.

The light that surrounded her winked out and she fell with a thump to the ground. She shivered in the night air, and slowly, so as not to startle, Bishop laid his large overcoat over her.

She was quite stunning, he could see in the little light there was. Long brown hair, with two white streaks at the peak of her forehead. Though the white streaks inclined to tell him she was older, her face belied that. He passed a hand down her face, feeling its soft pearlescent texture, before feeling for a pulse beneath her chin. It was slow and steady, and he laughed.

She was sleeping.

"Who are you?" He asked softly, well aware that no matter how out-of-it she appeared, she was very much listening.

_I wish I knew._

Bishop heard the thought louder than the other, mostly because he was closer to her.

"Why shouldn't I trust Fitzroy?"

_He will destroy the world._

"What secrets? And what are you talking about?"

_He will destroy the world. I've Seen it._

_You'll find out soon...Lucas._

"Explain what you mean."

_I'm so tired._

"Explain!"

_Will you protect me?_

The question caught him off guard, so intent on making her tell him what she'd meant. She'd asked it in a small voice, one indeed ravaged by exhaustion and fear. "From what?"

_From Hellfire and damnation._

X.S.E. Office Lucas Bishop, a man of honor and integrity, a man with no family to call his own, not anymore, looked on that strange girl. She'd appeared from nowhere, saying things that made him question everything he knew.

She reminded him of his little sister.

"Yes."

* * *

_Day 31  
Interstate 70_

_Just outside of Missouri_

Who'd have thought that at six a.m. on Sunday there'd be so much traffic? Rogue, who could see the future, couldn't have foreseen the pile-up of cars that stretched out before her. Was it any wonder that in the boredom that now enveloped her, she let her mind wander back, or rather forward, to the time she'd left behind.

Lucas Bishop had kept his promise, Rogue knew, and continued to keep it to this day. He protected her, from mutants, emplates, humans, from his superiors and his enemies. Much like she had with the X-Men, they'd bonded through adversity. He was as much her family as the X-Men had been.

As the X-Men were.

Despite everything she'd gone through without them, she still thought of them as her family. She still thought of the Mansion as her home.

She stayed away now for their protection. If her mission was to be successful, sacrifices might have to be made, and she knew better than any that the X-Men could not be part of those sacrifices. They would be needed in the years to come, because it was already written that they would.

Even if the written history was being erased and re-wrote, she had no doubt that they would still be needed.

Rogue tapped her fingers on her steering wheel, looking for the chance to break away from the herd of cars and strike out fast and furious onto the open road just feet away. As she found that opportunity, she let out a whoop of joy, not noticing in her elation that her foggy little watcher had returned.

* * *

_Bayville, New York_

"Colonel Fury, are you telling me you'd like to bring it here?"

"With something like this, I don't trust it in the hands of anyone else. I'm not even telling my superiors about it."

"Then by all means, Colonel, bring Legacy here. We shall deal with it accordingly."

Fury laughed. "I bet you will. In the meantime, I'll deal with the courier accordingly."

The phone called ended with Fury still laughing, and Xavier wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.


	7. Seven Little Girls

**Chapter 7: Seven Little Girls Sitting in the Back Seat

* * *

**

_New York City_

The night was young, and the club goers equally so. College kids mostly, but several older people mingled in the crowd, more interested in taking an overly-inebriated college co-ed than in dancing to the music that pounded out of the speakers liberally placed in the room.

In some ways, this could have been any club on any corner in Manhattan. There was one integral difference between this place and those other places. It wasn't the music that came from the speakers, for it was the usual regurgitated with a better beat popular music of the moment, with a few golden oldies thrown in for nostalgia. It wasn't the location, because it was just another warehouse club in the Meat District, a building no different than the other rehabbed ones around it. It wasn't the booze, for it was the same watered-down slop served all over the country and world.

What set this party apart from the ones that happened within blocks of it had to be the patrons. It was the green bartender, who used his many limbs (eight by Rogue's count) to serve customers. It was the winged bartender who served drinks on the first floor of the club, then took more to the second floor by flight (though how he balanced that tray she didn't know). It was even the DJ, a baseline looking girl whose hair changed colors as the music changed, red when the beat was hot, blue for a slower song, and when the remix got going a rainbow of colors moving so quickly that she almost glowed.

The club was called _Lila's_ and it was the only one of its kind currently in existence. A mutant club, protected by the same. The owner, Ms. Cheney, was fond of saying that she'd started it to protect mutants and to protect the nightlife from them. Rogue wondered idly as she headed to the door if Lila still said that.

The doorman was big and dumb, bald but with one shiny blond curl at his forehead. She'd have recognized him anywhere. "Hey, Guido."

The large mammoth of a mutant turned to Rogue, a large oddly child-like grin covering the lower half of his face as he picked her up for a rib-crunching hug (literally, she had to turn on Logan's healing powers). "Rogue! It has been too long!"

Rogue laughed as he put her back on the ground, patting his shoulder affectionately. "For you maybe, not me. I just saw you a month ago."

Guido looked confused for a few seconds. "Lila and I were sent here about three years ago. Time travel confuses me."

Rogue laughed again, relaxing for the first time since she'd been sent back to this time. Guido Carrosella had always had that affect on her. Rogue had first met Lila and Guido when they'd been partners in the future, working for the X.S.E. As time travel crime had begun to heat up, with people jumping back and forth and causing damage all along the lines, she and he had been sent here as permanent handlers. They provided temporary lodgings, food, money, and other such needs as operatives sent back needed.

Several outposts such as_ Lila's_ had been set up at various points in history. It was tricky business, but the X.S.E. was handling it as best they could. Rogue and her companions had not been the first to be forced into the past to repair damage, and they wouldn't be the last.

"Guido, you seen Bishop?"

"Yeah, he got here a few hours ago."

Rogue nodded, gesturing for him to let her in. "What about Pulse?"

"Blondie here too? I didn't know they let thieves travel," Guido said snidely, well aware of Rogue's former paramour's 'side jobs' and her own disapproval of it'. Some might say it was just proof that Rogue always had a thing for thieves.

Rogue levitated herself a few feet, so she could lean in close and whisper in the behemoth's ears. "I never said he was here officially."

"Always breaking rules."

"Always for the best reasons," she responded with a smile, slinking past him and into the dim hallway that followed.

There was no cover-charge at Lila's, but there was a promissory note that must be signed. Any mutant who entered here had to agree that any fights started were finished here, never carried out into the innocent populace that loitered in the streets around. Any damage inflicted on the premises would be paid for by the inflictor, and a lot of other things were listed that most people didn't read or pay attention to.

At least until Guido showed up, and then they all paid attention, big bad mutant or not.

The dance floor was packed with a variety of people, of every nationality, color, and power. Several with wings or levitation abilities danced above the rest and set themselves apart. Others transmutated into different things, trying to catch the eye of someone they found attractive, or to just get attention. Rogue saw several wolf men, and one rather attractive half-butterfly half-woman that moved in an oddly graceful weaving dance.

Not that Rogue played for that team, but she always had an eye for beauty.

She hesitated at the doorway, using her physical eyes and her psychic ones to find her quarry, finally picking up his 'scent' all the way across the dance floor and at the bar. With a smile and small shove to the porcupine-looking mutant that dared to jostle past her, Rogue set off across the floor, not even bothering to walk around the gyrating people in the middle.

She moved smoothly, almost slithering through the crowd. Even as she was cocooned from all sides, she remained aloof from them, seemingly untouched by their sweaty hot bodies, or the rhythm that had them gasping for air and unable to stop dancing until they were well and truly dead to the world. It wasn't a mutant thing, this frantic yearning for oblivion that only exhaustion could give you. It was a teenage thing, a young thing, and mostly a girl thing.

While boys did dance, they never did it with the spirit and passion of a female. Whereas boys dance to be near the girls, girls dance to dance. To feel the burn and heat of movement, the freedom of absolute lack of control.

Rogue had once hated not having control. She hadn't danced, hadn't sang, hadn't kissed, hadn't touched. All because she couldn't control the most integral part of her, and for years she'd shut herself down emotionally so that she wouldn't have to feel the pain that she also couldn't control.

She was back in that place and time, and those old emotions were haunting her from her memories, so because she could...she danced.

She let the music take her and she began to sway. Back and forth, faster until she had the rhythm, and then she well and truly began to move. Hips swinging, knees bending, arms flailing above her head thrown back as she tried to breathe through the sudden all encompassing heat of the people around her.

She spun into the arms of someone she didn't know, letting him dip her and slam her up into the air, before she leapt from him and to another. Back and forth, across the dance floor she moved, to man, to woman, feeling the single exquisite touch that each of them could give her. Every touch different, in aim, in motive, in texture. She remembered them all, storing them in a small private place of her mind. In her dreams, they all touched her at once and she felt almost child-like in her joy.

Suddenly, in mid-dip with a Chinese mutant who she could tell by fleeting imprint had an affinity for fire, she felt the brush petal-soft and almost non-existent of telepath. _Rogue._

It immediately sobered her, and she almost stumbled as she suddenly stood. The music didn't affect her anymore, and neither did the touch of her companion. She turned and walked from him without a word, no longer even noticing the people that surrounded her.

She didn't know why she'd let her guards down, even for an instant. She'd been trained better than this, but this time was getting to her. Making her forget all the vows and promises she'd made to her superiors and her partner.

Speaking of, her partner still sat at the bar, just where she'd first seen him. He looked a bit out of sorts in the crowd, one of the oldest people there and the meanest. His hair was pulled back into a tight pony-tail, his face stern-looking as he stared into the mirror over the bar. He brushed his fingers down the M-brand on his face, marveling at the sight of all these people. Untouched by cruelty as of yet, untouched by years of dissatisfaction with humanity and with themselves.

Rogue slid into the seat next to him, brushing her fingers down his M-brand with him, before brushing her fingers down her matching one. It was smaller than his; roughly the same ratio on her face as his was on his. When she'd first woken in the future, she'd thought the bandage over her right eye had been because of an injury she'd sustained on the journey. It was only when Bishop had taken it off and explained to her what it was that she realized she'd well and truly traveled to a different place.

If she'd been able, Rogue sometimes thought that in that instant she'd have come home. Back to the bosom of her friends and family, and perhaps that would have even been best for her. Maybe she'd be blissfully ignorant of what was to come in the future. Maybe she'd have been happier.

She wouldn't have control, though. She wouldn't have had Bishop. She wouldn't have had her own independence from Xavier's ideals, and she wouldn't have the choice.

Bishop gave her a small smile, and gestured for one of the private booths along the wall. Neither of them was comfortable with the amount of people in here, and with the chance of being overheard, so wordlessly they stood and walked over. The bartender would tell Pulse where to find them when he arrived.

Rogue snorted and thought to herself, _if he arrives_.

Her ex-boyfriend had never really been that reliable, though she'd be damned if he wasn't one of the finest mutants she'd ever seen.

"How was your plane trip?" Rogue asked as the door closed behind them and she began to close the airflow in the room, preventing any eavesdropping through vents, while she also checked for listening devices. Lila was a friend, but Rogue didn't trust the people Lila considered friends.

"Long and uncomfortable. Your's?"

Rogue grinned. "I didn't fly."

Bishop sat and studied her face. "I know you didn't teleport."

"I, uh, stole a car. Several actually."

"That's lovely."

"Gus must be rubbing off on me."

"He'll be happy to hear it."

Rogue grinned again, and pressed a small button on the lone table in the small room to summon a server. They waited until the gilled-and-scaly lad had gotten their orders and left to speak again. "Have you heard from Pulse?"

Bishop shook his head. "Radio silence until rendezvous here, correct?"

"Supposed to be, but Pulse rarely listens."

"He listened this time," Bishop noted, going silent again as his tonic water was delivered. Rogue just drank water. "You heard anything about Fitzroy?"

Rogue shook her head. "Nothing going on the psychic plane, but if he's with the Hellfire gang then I doubt I'll hear from him. They've got a couple very talented spooks. One of which, I've already encountered."

Bishop immediately stopped studying the crowd outside the window near their table and looked at her. "What happened?"

"The White Queen has taken an interest in my mind."

"She got in?"

Rogue glared at him mockingly. "This is _me_ we're talking about."

Bishop grinned and shrugged. "You've been known to slip."

"Yeah, in the first few weeks of training. I haven't slipped in months."

He threw his hands up in surrender and looked back out at the crowd. "We have to be careful." He glared at her. "The fate of the world is on our shoulders."

Rogue lost her grin and nodded solemnly. "Isn't it always?"

"It does seem that way," Bishop agreed, before pointing out the fact approaching figure. "There's Pulse."

Rogue sighed. "Good, let's get this briefing over with."


	8. A Date at Eight

**Chapter 8: A Date at Eight

* * *

**

_New York City_

Outwardly, the three mutants bore little resemblance. Sure, they all had the same "M" branded over their right eyes, wore the same color scheme of black and red in an almost uniform appearance. Looking past that, they could have been any human on any street. They were mutants, but some of the lucky ones that didn't look the part.

However, in Bishop's time that wasn't enough for many humans, who felt that being a mutant should be easily seen, thus the "brand".

Bishop is a large man, very physically imposing at six feet six inches high. He's worked hard on his body, shedding any fat in favor of all muscle. He has dark caramel skin, and prefers his hair kept in a close buzz/shave combination that is undeniably military. Bishop is a product of the system, and lives by the edict that using his mutant abilities to solve a situation is bad. Thus, he uses his energy projections as a last resort in any fight, preferring his gun and his hands. By no means is he a thug, because inside that perfect specimen of a body is a mind worthy of any science, if he'd only had the inclination.

He's a man of honor who values truth and justice above all else, including loyalty. Rogue trusted him with her life.

Pulse was Bishop's polar opposite, physically and morally. A thief by profession, a coward by self-exclamation, he preferred his own life and health to anyone else's. A tall white man with blond hair and blue eyes, he's attractive in an "All American Dream" sort of way. That 'perfect' outer shell hides a clever and devious mind that enjoys various depravities that most of society, no matter what the time, disapproves of.

He likes to think he's a modern day Robin Hood, taking from the rich, but he always forgets to give to the poor. Rogue thought she loved him at one point, only to find that love and lust are easily confused.

The last member of the merry trio is none other than Rogue herself. She remains much the same, physically, other than a better fashion sense and new haircut. She no longer wears her gloves obsessively, and indeed prefers the sleeveless uniform she was assigned for this mission. Her hair was cut short, barely an inch all around giving her a 'pixie' look. It made the white streak that was her bangs barely noticeable, which she preferred. Mentally, she was nowhere near the girl she'd once been. Various experiences and numerous small evolutions of her own gift had made an entirely new person, though sometimes she remembered who she used to be.

She may remember, but more often than not she embraced her new existence and liked it that way.

Rogue laid her hands on the table, studying the long manicure she'd grown herself just before leaving. With all the imprints of various mutants she had floating around in her head, it was a small thing for her to manipulate her appearance; she'd found that despite many exclamations to the contrary of her youth, she loved the way she looked. From the white hair to the pale skin and grey eyes. When you can look like anyone in the world, you learn to be comfortable in your own skin.

Pulse sighed and stole Rogue's water, sipping delicately. "Anyone going to explain why we're here?"

"To save the world," Rogue replied glibly.

"That's the reason you snuck me into the X.S.E.'s Headquarters, which, by the way, very unsettling when certain people have warrants!"

Rogue laughed and stole Bishop's tonic water. "No one even recognized you. The entire time they thought you were Shard."

Bishop stole his drink back and glared at the both of them. "If you're done chit-chatting, can we get down to business? We do not have a lot of time."

Rogue sighed. "Okay, so, you both know what the Legacy Virus is, don't you?"

"A virus created in the mid-twenty-first century targeted at mutants. Wiped out nearly half the population of Genosha before it, rather appropriately, mutated and started to kill humans too."

Rogue nodded at Pulse's explanation. "It took almost five years to find a cure, and even now every once and a while a pocket of it will appear in one of the third-world countries. The only reason we even found a cure is because of Dr. Reyes and her research into and ultimate death from Legacy. There are some that reason if not for her, we'd never have found a cure."

"Why her?" Bishop asked, preferring sports history to medical history.

"Her mutant genome. She was a healer, literally, both studied and mutant-abilities. Combined, she used her skills to infect herself and study how her body tried to heal it."

Pulse pointed out the obvious. "She died from the virus."

"Yes, her body didn't create enough anti-bodies to fight it in herself, but when taken out of her body and introduced early into infected cells, they cured the virus." Rogue sat back, sighing and she struggled to find a way to put the problem into words. "Legacy is what we're facing, right now. Bishop's former partner, X.S.E. Officer Trevor Fitzroy, used his teleportation abilities to break into one of the X.S.E.'s Medical Holding Labs, and stole both samples of the virus and it's cure. He then used his abilities to drain the life of the only witness to his burglary and use that energy to create a time portal to this time."

Bishop took over explaining. "All of this went down the day Rogue appeared in our time. While I was distracted with identifying and caring for Rogue, he escaped. We think her scans of his mind might have scared him into running. Ordinarily, not a problem. Send some trackers into the timeline, they drag him back, problem solved."

"So why are we here, then?" Pulse asked.

"Because something went wrong. Immediately after Fitzroy entered the time stream, a distortion wave appeared at point of exit, roughly a month this year." Rogue continued, "As you know, portals can't open past a distortion. It has to fully encompass the timeline before portals can make it through. We managed to get enough of a look into the past to know that the distortion is big. Fitzroy is planning to do something that will completely devolve the future and replace it."

"If portals can't get past a distortion, how'd we get past it?"

Rogue shrugged and avoided his eyes. "We had a little help."

Pulse didn't get it at first, narrowing his eyes at her in confusion before the forced calm on her face clued him in. "Holy shit, the Nexus is involved? They never get involved in Earth's affairs!"

Rogue shushed him. "This should tell you how important this is. We're talking billions dead."

"Okay, okay! I'll be quiet. But...what does this have to do with Legacy?"

Rogue sighed, rubbing at her temples as a headache began to pound (which was the usual result of ongoing conversation with Pulse; such was the irritation he caused her). "Fitzroy is planning on selling the virus to three sources. We got that much from his psychic residue at the scene of the crime. Our best guesses are the Hellfire Club, and S.H.I.E.L.D.; we can't even guess at the third source. Some of the spooks were thinking it was a person, and not an organization, but we won't know until we catch up with him."

Pulse nodded. "So we're going after Fitzroy?"

"Partly," Bishop noted, gesturing for their waiter to bring another round of drinks. They waited until he'd done so before Bishop continued. "We have to make sure we bring every sample of Legacy back as well."

"Why?"

Rogue smiled grimly. "Because Dr. Reyes won't even be born for another twenty years. Think about the kind of damage the virus can do in that time. Sure, they might find the cure without Reyes, but what if they need her specific mutation to do it? What if the virus kills her parents before she can be born? Either way, we're talking 90 loss within ten years."

Pulse did some calculating. "That's...like nine billion people dead."

"So you see why we have to make sure we take the entire virus back, no leaks."

He swallowed audibly. "Yes, I can see the benefit of that. So, where do we start?"

"As far as my scanning can tell, Fitzroy is at the Hellfire Club. I don't know whether he's brokered a deal with them yet, or with anyone, so we need to extract him and fast."

"Go in under disguise?" Pulse asked, already envisioning the various ways he could break into the building, even sight-unseen. If you've broke into one building, you've broken into thousands, and he's very good at what he does.

"Not feasible," Rogue replied, "They'd recognize my mental signature."

"Why?"

"Because the White Queen has been watching me since I exited the portal in California."

"Again, I ask why?"

"I couldn't tell you, Gus. I'm just trying my damnedest to keep her out," Rogue bit out, her irritation clear in the roughness of her retort.

Bishop turned to her, concern in his eyes. "Are you compromised?"

"No. We do need to hurry, though."

"What's our first objective?"

"Find a way in, find the target, get out and get out fast. Since they've been watching me, I think it's best we don't even try to sneak in."

Bishop opened a small panel on his arm, one hidden in his sleeve. He pressed a few buttons on it, and in the middle of the table between them a small hologram appeared. "This is the Hellfire Club building. Let's work out a plan."

* * *

_Bayville_

The helicopter flew in low; under any radar the government might have monitoring Xavier's Institute. Not that the radar would detect the 'copter anyways, Colonel Fury only flew the best.

At the mansion's front steps, Storm and Professor Xavier waited for their ally to land. Beneath their feet, Beast was already preparing his lab to study this new specimen. Even lower than that, Wolverine was working out his frustrations on a hapless Danger Room program.

Fresh from his 'road trip' he had nothing new to report and Xavier didn't have to be a telepath to realize that Logan was taking his failure very hard, despite attempts to alleviate the guilt.

Neither Gambit nor Sabretooth appeared to be having the same problems.

However, Xavier would watch them carefully in the coming weeks, since it appeared that despite arguments to the contrary, Magneto would be staying with them longer. He liked to think that his old friend was 'seeing the light', but knew most likely it was a matter of when Magneto would leave, not if.

Hopefully, the man wouldn't begrudge Xavier for persuading several of the Acolytes to stay on.

Fury had landed by the time Xavier's thoughts rounded themselves out, and with a smile the Professor wheeled himself forward to greet him. "Colonel, it's good to see you."

"You know you don't mean that," Fury replied with a snarky smile. "Not when I'm bringing this problem to you."

"Indeed," Xavier agreed, turning so that he and the Colonel, now followed by Ororo, could retreat to Xavier's office to speak. "I'd be interested to know where you retrieved this virus."

"We were contacted by an intermediary. Once we saw the virus and our doctors confirmed what it could do, we made sure we got our hands on it. We got the messenger, but not the one behind it. The middle man didn't know anything."

Xavier slid easily behind his desk, watching the S.H.I.E.L.D. commander with a keen eye. "You're not telling the whole truth."

"No, I'm not," Fury agreed but didn't elaborate, and Xavier didn't push.

Ororo summoned Beast through one of the communicators and within minutes the large blue mutant had arrived. Taking the small silver briefcase from Fury, he held it almost reverently. Fury smiled. "Be careful, monkey-man. Don't wanna break anything in there."

Beast nodded, seemingly holding his breath as he moved to go to his lab. Xavier watched him go before turning to Fury. "You'll not get into trouble for giving us this?"

"Giving you what?" Fury responded with another small smile. "I'll be going now...not that I ever was here."

"Of course," Xavier replied in perfect understanding, already moving to join Beast in the lab.

Fury stopped at the door, turning back just before he disappeared into the helicopter. "Watch your back, Xavier. There are rumors going around that there's a big fight coming."

"Rumors from your higher-ups, Colonel?" Ororo asked, her eyes narrowed as she tried to surmise if Fury was threatening them.

"No. To the contrary, this fight is from somewhere else entirely."

Fury was gone within seconds of that mysterious statement, and Xavier and Ororo could only stare at each other as they tried to think of just who was after them now.


	9. Nine Have Tried

**Chapter 9: Nine Have Tried (And Nine Have Died) **

_

* * *

_

New York City

Just a few blocks off of Time Square, in the epicenter of Downtown New York, amid skyscrapers and busy streets, a small building stands aloof from it all. Taken from a distance, it seems humble next to the glittering sights popular here. Close up, its regal beauty is tempting and calls to the romantic that lurks within everyone.

A castle reconstructed stone-for-stone from its home in Europe; the inhabitants appreciate both the regality and the privacy. Set far from the street, separated from the tourists and passersby by a large walkway that was bracketed by gardens famous for their beauty; it all but screamed "Stay Out". You had to be very powerful, very rich, or very beautiful to enter these gates and expect to walk out again.

The Hellfire Club.

A secret society with branches in most of the major cities of the world. In every one of those city chapters, of the dozens of members, only several were chosen for the Inner Circle. Inner Circles were the true leaders of the Hellfire Club, influential in matters of economy, government, and business. They literally had a hand in almost everything.

In a fit of humor, just a century ago those chose for the Inner Circle fashioned themselves in costumes of the Victorian Era and began calling themselves after chess pieces. Whether this was a comment on the general manipulative nature of the Hellfire Club, or again was a connection to their Victorian origins, no one could guess; or rather those in the know preferred not to think about it.

In an ironic twist that few of those oh-so-rich-and-conservative members would appreciate, in almost all of the Inner Circles mutants took majority rule. Don't mistake the "Club" for being pro-mutant, however. The only people the Hellfire Club looked out for were Hellfire People. Greed was the number one motive here, and everyone watched their own back.

Rogue stared down the large imposing black gates that heralded the entrance to the Hellfire Gardens and managed not to make her nervousness apparent to her companions. The Hellfire Club was little more than a historical footnote in Bishop and Pulse's time, their schemes readily available in mountains of files that stretched back past the fifteenth century, when they'd first taken the name of the Hellfire Club. Little did the people inside the castle know but their time was limited.

In the mid-twenty-second century, some fifty or sixty years from now, a new Black Queen would rise to control of the New York Chapter and decimate the city. Within weeks, she'd be dead and the Hellfire Club with her.

It made Rogue smile to think of it. Those with the greatest ambition usually take the biggest fall, and take everyone involved with them.

It was also a cautionary tale for Rogue, because truth be known, her own mutancy made it very possible for her to be extremely powerful.

"This is it? Doesn't look so bad. I bet I could get in within minutes."

Rogue turned to Pulse, who was as usual obnoxiously attractive. Both of them had used conventional make-up to cover their M-brands, and dressed to the nines so they'd blend in better. Rogue had little doubt that the second she stepped foot over the threshold that several, if not all, of the Inner Circle would know who she was; the trick was keeping them from realizing why she was here.

Pulse grinned at her, well aware that Rogue was appreciative of his efforts to look good. Black tuxedo, black shirt, no tie; all contrasting nicely with his tan skin and blond hair. His blue eyes sparkling with mirth as he leaned close, breathing in the coconut scent of her shampoo. "Save me a dance?"

Rogue smiled, using the sharp nail of her finger to press his chest and force him away. "We won't have time. This is a quick in and out. You see Fitzroy, you signal me. I'm gonna have my hands full avoiding Sebastian Shaw."

"Sebastian Shaw?"

Rogue nodded. "The Black King of the Hellfire Club. His little telepath will tell him the second I arrive. They've been watching me for too long not to notice me."

Pulse nodded even as he pulled her hand through his elbow to escort her properly. Hips swinging and mouths smiling, they started the long walk through the gates. Cameras swiveled to follow their progress, taking note of their faces, their clothing, what they wore under their clothing, and using the latest technology, their DNA.

Though they reached the doors unscathed, Rogue sighed in relief. "First test passed."

"That was a test?" Pulse asked as he opened the door and gestured for them to precede him.

"You're a fool to think it wasn't," Rogue replied. "They could have killed us at any time. Snipers on the roof, automatic guns in the garden, hidden traps in the sidewalk. We only got this far because we intrigued them."

"Why'd we intrigue them?"

"We're mutants."

* * *

_Bayville_

The medical lab located five stories beneath the school that was Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters was only dimly lit. Henry McCoy, a brilliant scientist in any application, was doing what he preferred to do most. He was working on a problem.

Specifically, the bio-engineered lethal virus that was labeled Legacy. He had no idea who had named it, but he recognized where the virus came from, and knew well how contagious it was. What he couldn't know was what the effects of the tampering was, though what limited information Colonel Fury had given him helped.

"What do we know, Dr. McCoy?" Professor Xavier asked as he wheeled himself into the space beside the large blue man.

"It's quite interesting."

"How so?"

"From a scientist's perspective, it's a work of genius! Such fine-tuning of the atomic base is years ahead of the current capabilities..."

"Henry?"

"...I've no idea how they could've done such a thing, but I would be most interested in seeing the lab that produced it..."

"Beast?"

"...oh, yes, Professor?" Beast asked as his attention was jerked from the slide in his microscope to that of the Professor.

"Does it do what Colonel Fury supposed?"

Beast nodded, sitting back with a sigh onto a specially enforced swivel chair. He hadn't realized just how long he'd been standing there looking into the slide, but his back was creaking in an unpleasant way. "I'm afraid it just might." Beast tapped a few keys on a nearby computer, and the large monitor on the wall flashed into life. On it, several blood cells floated in liquid. Even as the two of them stood there, a small black organism was injected into the liquid. Within seconds, the blood cells were infected and dead. "It is extremely lethal. I performed that in a sealed compartment, because from my calculations it's also extremely contagious. The base virus is that of influenza. The first symptoms are much the same. However, from my calculations, within days the infected will be unable to move and slowly suffocates on their own blood. It starts with a cough and tingling in the fingers. Maybe some nausea, just like the flu. As it wears on, the infected would lose feeling in their extremities, finally losing the ability to move. After that, it would be a quick downward spiral to death."

Professor Xavier was horrified by the thought of such a virus being released on the mutant populace but kept such thoughts to himself. "Is it true that it's been engineered to attack only mutants?"

Beast nodded slowly. "I'm afraid it is. I tried injecting it on human cells and nothing happened. That is true for right now, however. A virus engineered to be this virulent, it's only a matter of time before it mutates and attacks humans as well."

"You're taking all precautions, Henry?"

Beast nodded again, coughing a bit into his hand. "I'm taking every precaution we have here, but I fear we must move what samples we have to another location. It's simply too dangerous to keep here."

Xavier nodded. "I will contact Muir Island. See if Moira has an open lab."

"That would be best. In the meantime, I'll continue my trials. See if I can find a flaw in the engineering."

They both knew it was a long shot, but the more information they had the better.

* * *

She was a vision in green velvet.

It was floor-length with a slit up her right leg, revealing what could be miles of creamy skin. No sleeves and a daring front dip, her short hair making her neck look long and delectable; just begging to be kissed by the right man.

Sebastian Shaw never doubted that he was the right man.

He even found the small chunk of white hair in her bangs to be attractive.

He sought her across the room, slipping between friends, strangers, and enemies with little notice, so intent on following her. She moved with an unnatural grace, more cat than person. Her grey eyes flickered over every entrance and exit, seeking something he didn't know. She was here for a reason, and he wanted to know what.

On the opposite side of the room, Pulse noticed Shaw's slow hunt. Forgetting his own search for Fitzroy for a moment, he pressed the small button behind his ear, his subdermal radio linking up to Rogue's in a small moment. "You've got a shadow," he whispered as his eyes continued to track Shaw.

"I know," she responded with a sultry smile his way, cutting the conversation off after that. Too many people around to communicate that way. Rogue smiled at a Russian General and his mistress before side-stepping them both and ducking behind a large pillar. From there, she could see most of the party and watched with interest as Shaw's right-hand "man" waylaid his chase to whisper in his ear.

"Her name is Rogue."

Shaw lost sight of the brunette vixen and turned to a different kind of brunette. With almost black hair that matched the twin hooks tattooed under her eyes, Tessa had been his most trusted ally for many years. She'd come to him an immigrant from the Middle East, sick of the war that was forever being fought there. He'd felt drawn to her immediately, though only in a platonic way.

"How'd she get in?"

"She's a mutant."

Shaw was interested but kept the emotion locked behind a cool façade. "Is she of interest to us?"

"Emma seems to think so."

Emma Frost, the White Queen of the Hellfire Club, and a royal pain in the ass if he did say so. Apropos of their conflicting titles, Shaw being the Black King to her White Queen, the only thing between these two was a healthy sense of rivalry. If Emma thought Rogue was worth something, then she undoubtedly was.

"Where is Emma?"

Tessa smiled. "She's keeping Trevor company in the antechamber."

Shaw nodded. "Why don't you go keep him company as well? Wouldn't want her turning my new Black Rook against me, now would we?"

It wasn't so much a request as it was an order. Tessa knew her place among the line-up of the Inner Circle, and unlike many that populated it, she held no title. She was simply Tessa, and nothing else.

Rogue, with Wolverine's enhanced hearing, heard all of this and knew what must be done. Without bothering to inform her partner, she slipped into the crowd to follow Tessa.

The antechamber was just off the Ballroom, used as both an entry-way and a waiting room. Since the party was almost completely under way, there were little to few people out here. Emma Frost, Tessa, and Fitzroy were among them.

Though he'd disappeared the very day Rogue had arrived in the future, she had no doubt he'd recognize her. She'd been the very reason he'd fled the time, though she'd had no part in his deciding to steal Legacy. No, only Fitzroy's greed had been at fault for that.

Rogue smiled and ran her hands down her dress, smoothing non-existent wrinkles even as she stepped from the shadowy doorframe.

Showtime.

* * *

* * *


	10. Ten Minutes to Heaven

**Chapter 10: Ten Minutes To Heaven

* * *

**

Trevor Fitzroy might have been considered attractive until one looked into his eyes. He was a large, reed-thin redhead, freckles across his cheeks. His eyes were brown, but that wasn't what one first noticed. Looking at him, you first noticed how those eyes never stopped moving. Flicking left and right, up and down, seeking out all exits and taking in every face. It was shady and made him look perpetually guilty. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then Fitzroy was a criminal through and through.

Rogue didn't need to be a psychic to know that even now he was plotting to betray his Hellfire "friends". She could hear his plans repeating in his mind, clearly broadcast to those who were looking. His two companions, both formidable telepaths, were great actresses that they did not show their knowledge of his mind. Emma pressed close, her white leather bustier immediately distracting him from the nerves that made his feet beat rhythmically against the floor. Her long blond hair fell over one eye attractively as she smiled at him.

"Don't worry, Trevor. You don't have to go in there if you don't want to."

He mumbled under his breath, not really paying attention to the platitudes Emma whispered.

Tessa, resplendent in an oppositely colored top to match Emma's own, did not comfort Fitzroy. Instead, she was staring into space, moving her fingers on her lap almost as if typing. A woman with a keen sense of intellect capable of moving faster than any computer ever created (that included in the future), Tessa was more of a threat than Emma was. Emma was just a telepath and a capable fighter. Tessa was smart and could outthink Rogue within seconds.

Tapping into Jean's telekinesis, Rogue sent the two sets of doors to this room, the ones entering the ballroom and the set leading into other parts of the Club, slamming shut. The two other people in the room, one a senator, the other his wife, jumped and let out a nervous titter even as they reached for the handles to re-enter the ball, not entirely comfortable with being here anymore. The sight of the prim and conservative duo made Rogue smile. If only they knew just what they were contributing their money to, they'd run in the opposite direction, if only to avoid bad publicity.

Rogue waited until the couple wasn't paying attention to slip beside them, telepathically assuming control of their bodies and their minds, though it took some effort. Telepathy had never been a particularly easy ability for her to control, nor was it pleasant. Many of the abilities she'd imprinted took a toll on her body and her brain. Her DNA just wasn't compatible with most of them. With each twist of her DNA to utilize a different ability, her body wore down. Already she'd aged faster than was normal, taking on the appearance of a twenty-year old when she was only seventeen. This, and the sometimes inability to control the psyches and their abilities within her mind, had led Bishop to training her in both hand-to-hand and many weapons.

As the political couple turned and started to move toward the trio across the room, talking quietly about the oddly locked doors they couldn't get through, Rogue pulled a small tranquilizer gun from her thigh-holster. No matter what Bishop tried to tell her, holsters that are located anywhere but shoulder are uncomfortable and tend to show. Rogue had practice so she didn't walk like a duck, but she usually felt like it.

The closer Rogue came to Tessa, Emma, and Fitzroy the more easily she could tap into their surface thoughts. Fitzroy's were easily heard, and easily dismissed. He was worried about what the Hellfire Club was asking of him, he didn't want to meet and greet "investors" and smile so nicely while they lambasted the mutant presence. At least in the future, he opined, mutants were out in the open and didn't have to deal with subterfuge. He'd never been good at hiding secrets.

Both Tessa and Emma were telepaths, so Rogue didn't expect to hear their thoughts; true enough in Emma's case, Tessa was broadcasting however. She was running through several simulations, calculating how much profit Shaw had made in the stock market today, and had the blueprints for the new Hellfire Club offices they were planning to build and was going over the corrections she'd ordered. She was doing all of this at once and within seconds. Her mind was so fast that even as Rogue sharpened her borrowed telepathy, she couldn't truly grasp what she could hear.

Still, Rogue let the telepathy slide back into an inactive state and turned to the old stand-by, her own talents. This took a bit of concentration because her own abilities were buried far beneath the surface abilities she used most often. Telepathy, telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and shape-shifting, to name a few of the dozen that were there. One of those psyches in particular was kept "active" at all times.

It was the psyche that gave her "control" over her ability, though really it wasn't control at all. Rogue liked to think of it as cheating, but she figured if God wanted to punish her, then she had no problem with outwitting him.

It took a few seconds to take it offline and to pull her abilities to the surface. When she felt the tingling in her fingertips, she knew she was whole again.

The couple passed the trio, and though Emma and Tessa were aware that Rogue was there, they assumed she was a telepath. She'd caressed their thoughts with it, and secondary mutations were rare. Since both of the women were powerful telepaths, they felt they had no need to be threatened.

They were wrong.

Turning at the last second to stand before them, she felt Emma and Tessa turn their attention to her. Tessa stood, shifting her mental tasks to the background and facing her. She slid her hand to a small gun hidden in her thigh-high boots but hid her hand in the cape to not reveal her hand early. Emma wasn't worried about that.

"Hello, Rogue. We've been looking for you," her voice was sultry, breathy, practiced to be cool. Emma let her fur-trimmed pearl coat slide to the floor, revealing the Hellfire outfit beneath. White halter top, corseted, with matching white leather pants, both skintight. It was expertly detailed; you couldn't even find the seam between boot and pants.

Rogue smiled, folding her arms over the green velvet she was decked out in, feeling very colorful indeed next to the white-washed Queen. "I've felt you. If you meant to be subtle, you failed."

Emma arched a smooth blonde-ish eyebrow (bleached) and replied snidely, "I don't _do_ subtle."

"That much is clear," Rogue replied slowly with an arched brow as she moved her eyes up and down Emma's proudly displayed 'assets'.

Emma slowly paced around Rogue, ignoring the insult. "I'm very interested in you and what you can do. I felt your presence a month ago, and have had people looking for information about you ever since."

She hadn't found anything, Rogue knew; when she'd joined the Brotherhood Mystique had informed her that any and all public records relating to her had "disappeared" in the night. As far as the world knew, she was Rogue, a mutant formerly enrolled in Bayville High. "What'd you find out?"

"You've exhibited telepathy, psycho-kinesis, teleportation, and numerous other abilities. Since the most mutations a mutant has ever had are two, no one is quite sure how you have so many talents. S.H.I.E.L.D. has the inside track, but we've yet to bribe the right person," Emma said as she pouted most prettily. If Rogue had been a lesbian, it might have had some affect.

She grinned, tilting her head in a way that accented her long vulnerable neck, going for an innocent look. "Would you like to see how?"

"No," Emma replied, her friendly look turning into one of feral intention. With a dance in her eyes, the large amounts of skin revealed in her outfit turned hard and then transparent. "I have a second mutation myself, Rogue. Isn't it nice?"

Rogue didn't need to touch Emma to know what she'd become. Diamond, pure diamond; one of the most indestructible mineral/gemstones on Earth. The only thing harder and more indestructible was adamantium, which Rogue didn't have and couldn't fabricate. Since Rogue needed skin-to-skin contact to activate the imprinting, she'd have to try another route.

"That's a shiny new coat, you got there, White Queen," Rogue commented, leaning back as if to appreciate. "Can you read my mind while in that form?"

Emma looked at her suspiciously. "Yes."

"You're lying," Rogue replied tapping into her psycho-kinesis to send Emma spirally back against the wall and pinning her there. Mere feet away, the Senator and his wife screamed, having been released from Rogue's control scant minutes ago.

Tessa arched an eyebrow and noted Emma's predicament. "If you are planning on taking me out now, I should tell you that I have already alerted security. You will not get far."

"You got any second mutations, Tessa?"

"None that will gain me an advantage."

"Good."

Rogue slid her bare hand onto Tessa's face, watching apathetically as the woman slid into unconsciousness while Fitzroy whimpered beside her. In his extremely agitated state, he couldn't teleport or even really move. He was a coward, one used to taking orders instead of giving them.

Tessa's telepathy immediately joined the psyche that represented telepathy, but Rogue found that her memories would not subside. It had taken months of training to create a way to control the psyches, with the most important factor being that Rogue could no longer think of what she took as souls or even people. When she imprinted, she immediately catalogued what she took according to what she could do, not who it was.

All telepathic imprints combined under one psyche, the same with teleportation, and with energy conversion talents. She could manifest the different types of each with concentration, but otherwise they became generic caricatures of the broad talent.

This was the first time Rogue had imprinted someone in the traditional skin-to-skin contact of her abilities in over a year. The last time she'd imprinted someone that person had died and she'd fought long and hard to heal from the experience. It was ironically appropriate that Rogue return to her true time and the true nature of her abilty.

As Tessa's actions and thoughts for the past five years slid through Rogue's mind, struggling to gain a foothold in the obsessively control environment, Rogue knew immediately she could not leave Tessa behind.

She would prove too useful.

Rogue pulled both of her ever-active psyches back into service, and pulled another to active as well. Grasping Tessa's wrist, Rogue ignored the pounding at the doors and Emma's screaming. "Now, now, Trevor. Calm down. We're gonna go for a little ride. Keep your hands inside the portal, lest you lose one."

She wrapped her free hand around Fitzroy's wrist and pulled both of them close to her body. She'd need a large portal, which would take a lot of energy, and she didn't have much to spare. The constant travel of the last day and a half, combined with the stress of the entire situation was hard to bear. She was only human.

Sifting through the various teleportation abilities she could harness, she settled on her first and favorite. Her adopted brother's talent, one of the few she could use to travel with other people.

With a blast of brimstone smoke, the trio disappeared, Emma fell from the wall and faceless Hellfire soldiers burst through the doors. Rage twisted her perfect plastic-face as she stood and dusted off her pristine clothing. "She wasn't alone. Find the man she arrived with."

Shaw stepped through the doors and took in the damage and his missing assistant. "Where is Tessa?"

"Rogue took her."

"Rogue?" He wondered aloud, recognizing the name and connecting it the woman he'd been hunting earlier. He'd took little interest in Emma's pet project of the last few weeks, but he'd asked Tessa to watch and take note of it all.

Tessa, who was now gone.

"Send out the envoys. They'll not have gone far." Shaw turned, stopping at the door to smile at all the startled and curious party-goers nearby. He spoke over his shoulder, making sure his words weren't loud enough to be overheard. "Contact Xavier. This is his wayward student we're dealing with."

Emma nodded and though she'd not set it up herself, she was inordinately pleased. They'd finally be moving ahead with their plans for Xavier's Institute. Plans that had been a long time in the making.

Two miles Uptown, Rogue appeared with Fitzroy and Tessa moving far enough way to collapse into Bishop's arms. "Did too much. Not much energy left."

Bishop took note of the two other people, then did a double take. "Who's the girl?"

"...Xavier's spy...in the Hellfire Club..." Rogue managed to say between yarns. She was crashing fast and didn't have much time to explain. "...might need her..."

"Where's Pulse?"

"Damn."

"Forget him, didn't you?"

"...damn..."

* * *

Cerebra beeped, a signal being sent to Xavier's hand-held computer as he worked on an academic paper in his office. With a frustrated sigh, he'd been so close to enunciating the sociological differences amongst Americans, he reached for the small Blackberry. Reading the message within, he felt the frustration ease even as he mentally called for his X-Men.

Rogue had teleported into a brownstone in Manhattan; the same place where four mutant signatures, including her own, were idling. Since Xavier knew they wouldn't stay there long, he had only so much time to get his X-Men there and to find her.

He'd send Nightcrawler ahead to make sure that she either didn't leave, or that she was followed if she did leave. It was risky, Kurt was emotional and might reveal their attention too soon, but he'd have to risk it.

They wouldn't lose her again this time.


	11. One Step Closer

**Chapter 11: One Step Closer**

* * *

Rogue lay where she'd fallen, her fingers moving on the dirty hardwood floor as if she was typing. She was blissfully unconscious, but her mind was even now working. It was a habit she'd picked up during her training with the X.S.E. Even while resting, her mind didn't dream. Instead, it worked on scenarios and thoughts of what had passed and what was to be done. When she woke, she'd know just what to do about Pulse.

The apartment where she'd transported herself and the two others was abandoned and located in the basement of a large complex. Personally, Bishop preferred living higher up, but he understood why she'd chosen the lowest point. The higher you were located, the easier it was for telepaths to close in on your location. The lower you were, the more life-signs and minds cloaked your position.

Bishop still knew that it would only be a matter of minutes before_ someone_ would arrive to investigate.

Rogue twitched as he slid his long arms under her small frame and he felt the small tingle along the scraping of their bare skin that meant she wasn't concentrating. Over the year they'd worked together, he'd come to know everything about the girl in his arms.

Some of what he'd learned he hadn't wanted to.

However, in the way of the universe, it was only fair for him to know her nightmares since she knew his.

* * *

_New York City, New York_

_Day 36568_

She'd been lying in this bed for exactly a month, and doctors of every field had no idea why. Her brain waves were off the map; by all rights she should be awake and moving around if not doing nuclear physics in her spare time. Every specialist called in wanted to stay and study her brain, if not open it up and dissect it.

They all agreed on one matter, however. Even for a mutant, this girl was special.

Despite the promise he'd made her on that rooftop, duties and superior orders had kept Bishop from seeing her in that time. After getting her safely loaded onto an aerial ambulance, Bishop had immediately been tagged for a break-in at X.S.E. Headquarters, and had spent the next week trying to clean up the mess his partner had left.

An official reprimand and two weeks suspension later, and he was no closer to finding his former partner than he was to seeing the enigmatic girl who'd caused the entire situation. His superiors claimed they were still 'investigating' the girl and didn't want any personal interference on Bishop's part, and he figured the Internal Affairs telepaths had had a go at his brain and found the protective feelings he felt.

He spoke to her doctors and her nurses, but wasn't allowed access to her records or the specialists called in. He knew that she survived, but did little else. Despite all attempts, they could run all the tests they wanted but couldn't actually _touch_ her. Some sort of force field surrounded her body half a foot around. After the initial physical in which the doctors had completely examined her, she'd been assigned a private room. Once ensconced there, the field appeared and nothing could breach it.

Another two weeks passed before his superiors informed Bishop that he could see her.

Bishop wasn't a fool, and knew that this was a test of sorts. The girl had responded once, when she first appeared, and only to him. Since then, nothing.

He entered her room with some trepidation. The drapery was pulled across the windows and no light had been turned on. It was completely silence except for the echoes of conversations from the hallway. There was no monitor for her heart or her brainwaves, the readings for both could only be taken during testing. Other than that, the staff just had to trust that she still lived.

He closed the door behind him and walked slowly to her side. He could feel a strong presence in the room, matching the reports of a force field. Most people could feel a force field without touching one. The way the air moved around the field instead of through it tended to alert people, though only the most discerning people could identify what it was they felt.

Bishop slowly waved his hand above her body, feeling the electricity of the field sparking centimeters below his hand. Then, just as he was about to push his hand down and test the field, the crawling feeling in the bones of his hand disappeared.

The field had disappeared.

It appeared his superiors were right to assume her intransigent state had been because of him.

He didn't touch her, however. Instead he sank into the chair at her bedside, placed there by a kindly nurse who'd taken to reading to the comatose girl in the night. He'd passed her on the way in and she'd spoken to him about the mystery girl's health. He hadn't paid that much attention, he'd wanted to see the stranger before he lost his nerve.

She looked just as she had on the rooftop, innocently intriguing. Pale skin and dark hair with the odd stripe of white in the front. Bishop recognized the small bandage over one of her eyes and knew that it was protecting a healing mutant brand the doctors had inked onto her when they positively identified her as a mutant. It was still curious that she didn't have one in this day and age, but in an extremely odd case it was just another strange fact to add to the pile.

She remained lying there in silence, unmoving except for the small shallow breaths she labored to take. Finally, unable to resist anymore, he slid his hand into hers and immediately felt a strange pulling sensation reaching from deep inside his chest and stretching down through his arm and out his hand where it touched hers.

He felt ice forming in his veins and his mind screamed in fear of something he knew not.

He couldn't breathe or even blink, but sat there unable to move as he felt his life flash before his eyes and the sparse light of the room faded even more.

As quickly as it began, it was over. The girl sat up, her large green eye shocked and wide as she stared at him. As Bishop looked at her, it flashed a dark brown and mirrored his own eyes for a few seconds before fading back to greenish gray. Her skin likewise did the same, going from creamy luminescence to dark chocolate brown and then fading back like coffee mixed with milk until she was the color she'd started out as.

He didn't have the sense to notice any other changes she underwent in those few seconds.

She shook her head, trying to clear out the cobwebs making it so hard for her to think. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a croak. Bishop stood and called for the doctor, pouring her a cup of water as she did so.

She drank greedily, looking around her surroundings as she did so. Finally, she pushed the cup away and waved her hand around. "Where?" was all she could manage to say.

"You're at Xavier's Mutant Hospital, the X.M.H. We brought you here after you...arrived."

She nodded and absently reached up to caress the bandage over her right eye before pulling it off. She blinked several times before her eyes glazed over as her thoughts began to jumble and spin again. Someone was screaming in her mind and she wished desperately that it would stop. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't think of anything to say. She was so confused, not sure what was going on or what had happened.

Bishop sat on the edge of her bed and could hear the sound of footfalls hurrying towards them. "Can you tell me your name?"

She thought long and hard on it as a grey-haired flushed man burst into the room and immediately began to examine her, taking her pulse and checking her eyes and the like. She turned to stare at the tall man still at her side. "My name...Lucas."

Bishop arched an eyebrow and shook his head. "My name is Lucas."

She thought harder and tried to go past the fog that kept many things in her own mind hidden from her. A name floated out of that darkness and she smiled a bit as she formed it with her lips. "Carol."

Lucas nodded and smiled gently at her.

He didn't believe her, but it would work for now.

* * *

_New York City, New York_

_Day 32_

Bishop tossed Rogue's prostrate form over his shoulder and started for the door. He'd not even gotten halfway across the room when he heard the sudden intake of air and turned to find that the shadows of the room had a new occupant.

He recognized the shadowed figure, however, from the conversations he'd had with Rogue months ago. The teleporter was called Nightcrawler, and he was Rogue's brother. For her sake, Bishop wouldn't hurt the boy too bad.

Bishop lay Rogue on the ground and didn't take his eyes off of the teenager, though it was difficult. The shadows seemed to swallow him up, only the blinking yellow eyes alerting Bishop to his movements and placement across the room.

"Let _meine Schwester_ go."

A small microprocessor in Bishop's brain translated the German instantly for him. It repeated back the sentence, and Bishop grinned into the dark. "Your sister is none of your concern. Leave before I have to take drastic measures."

"My sister is my business," Kurt's voice echoed into the room and Bishop looked around to try and locate him again. Slowly, keeping his eyes closed so that they wouldn't alert the dark stranger, Kurt moved around the walls. Climbing them effortlessly, he kept all sound to a minimum as he moved behind the stranger and closer to his sister.

"Don't get involved, X-Man. You don't know what you're doing. I don't want to hurt you."

Kurt saw his sister's unconscious body and lost all self-control. Anger over imagined injuries and crimes perpetuated against her had him leaping for Bishop, a roar leaving his throat as he forgot all that the Professor had told him about "subterfuge".

Bishop ducked as Nightcrawler leapt and used the boy's momentum to send him slamming into the wall. It didn't work as he wanted it to however, and Nightcrawler was back on his feet within seconds.

The blue-furred boy launched himself off the wall, teleporting as his feet left the plaster and reappearing instantly with the force of his jump, but without the warning, in front of Bishop and taking the larger mutant down in a heap of elbows and knees, all going into every sensitive spot both of them had on their bodies.

With every three-fingered punch Kurt delivered to Bishop's face both of them became more energized. Kurt because of his righteous anger, and Bishop because it was his mutant ability. Within minutes he had enough energy to blow a truck-sized hole into a mountain, but he kept the energy to himself.

The kid was only trying to protect Rogue, something Bishop could identify with.

Holding out his hands, Bishop wrapped his fingers around Kurt's fists and started to stand. Kurt wrapped his tail around Bishop's foot and tripped him up. They went down again, this time with Bishop on top.

He was tired of playing however.

Reaching down, Bishop pinched a specific nerve in Kurt's neck and watched as the boy slowly slid into unconsciousness. Contrary to the movies, a nerve-pinch takes several minutes to work, and by the time Bishop got to his feet Rogue was stirring on the floor.

She wouldn't truly wake for hours yet, but during this state she could slip in and out of waking. She opened her eyes and watched as Bishop knelt at her side. He had blood running from a cut on his lip and several bruises on his arms and shoulders.

Sleepily she asked, "What happened?"

"An unexpected guest."

"Took care of it?"

"Yes."

She nodded and fell asleep again, murmuring a bit when Bishop picked her up and carried her out the door to the van. He strapped her in the front seat, but didn't notice that one of their guests in the back had awoken.

Tessa's dark eyes saw and took note of everything.

* * *

They caught him as he tried to slip out with the exiting crowd.

No one paid the slightest bit of attention to the masked security and the hard-handed grip they had on the handsome stranger. The wealthy and the beautiful just kept on laughing and dancing into the night. Any trouble on the Club's part would be handled by the staff; the privileged rarely cared what happened when the party was over.

Pulse struggled in the oddly stiff arms of his captors but stilled as he saw who they were dragging him before. The doors shut behind them and the cavernous Ball Room became sinister in the sheer size and dishabille of its current state. Confetti and streamers littered the floor, wine glasses and small glass plates still covered most of the tables.

If he wasn't mistaken, a woman's panty-hose was hanging from the back of one of the chairs.

Sebastian Shaw sat regally in one of those same chairs and managed to be intimidating enough to seem to tower over everyone that remained. At his side a scantily clad blonde looked down her nose at Pulse and he grinned flirtatiously in response.

He loved bimbos.

"So...forgot to pay my bill, or what?" He asked as he pulled out of security's ham-handed officers and jauntily straightened his tux's jacket.

Sebastian ignored the attempt at humor and leaned forward. "You arrived earlier this evening with a woman. Her name is Rogue. Where is she?"

Pulse knew where she was supposed to be, mostly because he was supposed to be there with her. Whether or not she actually was there didn't matter. He wasn't telling the Hellfire Club a damn thing. "I couldn't tell you. You know women; fickle, fickle, fickle. I thought I'd be leaving with her, but..." he trailed off and gestured to his aloneness. "Obviously she changed her mind."

"Indeed," Shaw replied, standing and pacing around the small crowd. "She left with one of my subordinates, a woman named Tessa."

Pulse pretended to be shocked, and for once it was partly a true emotion. "She left me for another woman? Now that's hot."

Shaw backhanded Pulse casually but had enough force behind it to send him careening across the floor and into the wall. Pulse was surprised; Shaw hadn't seemed to be that physically strong. "Do not play with me, boy. Where are they?"

Pulse spit a bit of blood from the new split in his lip onto the floor and stood slowly. "I don't know."

Emma smiled and stepped closer to Shaw, eyeing Pulse over Shaw's shoulder. "This should be fun." Her spike heels clicked threateningly as she crossed the floor to Pulse's side.


	12. Two Faces Have I

**Chapter 12: Two Faces Have I**

* * *

_New York City, New York_

_Day 36589_

"...I was in a plane crash..."

"...when she died I was in her mind, I felt it..."

"...they chased me with shovels and pitchforks and clubs, they wanted to kill me..."

It was always a different story.

"...I was born in 1902..."

"...I fought in both World Wars and Vietnam..."

"...when I woke in the hospital I could no longer feel my legs..."

It was always told in the same voice.

"...my parents were taken to the gas chamber..."

"...the last time I saw my father he wouldn't even look me in the eye..."

"...sometimes I wake up screaming and I can't remember why..."

Bishop stopped and started a new tape every few seconds, watching her face every time she started a new story. Despite the appearances, the tests all said she was telling the truth each and every time.

She was Carol.

She was Jean.

She was Lucas.

She was many people with many different powers and many different personalities.

The doctors weren't sure whether she had an extreme version of multiple personality disorder, with multiple abilities to match, or if she was something else entirely.

Bishop didn't know the answers even as his superiors kept demanding them. Since that morning twenty days ago when she'd opened her eyes and started to speak, she'd been everything but impossible to figure out. So far, twenty days in a row, she'd wake up and ask for him. He'd bring the recorder and listen to her speak, ask her the same questions, and go through the same motions of procedure his nature demanded.

He'd yet to get an answer that remained the same from day to day.

The phone rang beside his desk and his eyes flickered to the digital time ticking away on the far wall. He knew who it was without picking it up and didn't bother to answer. Grabbing the recorder and a new notebook, he headed for the door.

She was awake.

* * *

_Day 32_

She tossed about in her sleep and managed to get herself tangled up in the seat belt. Bishop didn't have the time to pull over and straighten her out so he left her as she was. Her eyes moved behind closed lids, frantically from side to side, her dreams were heavy tonight. Bishop could tell what was going on in her mind just by watching her eyes while she slept. Like him, she was trained to keep her mind on the mission even when resting. Unlike him, however, Rogue also had the ability to Dream, an offshoot of her own adoptive mother's precognitive abilities.

When she woke soon she'd need paper ready to write down what she'd Seen before she forgot. That meant they'd have to stop somewhere.

After leaving Nightcrawler bruised and unconscious on the floor, Bishop had wasted no time getting out of the city. By now both the Hellfire Club and the X-Men would be on their tail and he'd done enough research to know that both groups were used to getting what they wanted.

Bishop's grin was feral and starkly white against the shadows of the van. He could feel the eyes of one of their captives on his back but he didn't turn. He already knew which one was awake; she'd been awake for much of the past few hours. Indeed, the first he'd switched vehicles she'd been watching him with those darkly calm eyes. She hadn't tried to speak however and had placidly not moved as he lifted her from the van floor and placed her on the floor of the new van.

Since then they'd switched vehicles another two times and had eluded their hunters with time to spare.

Signaling in the late hours, Bishop moved onto the highway, already sifting through the knowledge stored in a module recently grafted onto his brain. He needed a place that was secure, safe, and mostly unknown. With a sigh, he settled for two of the three and started watching for his exit.

"Where'd you get the tattoos?" He asked, his deep voice making her jump. He'd removed her gag on the last car-switch and she had smiled her thanks even as she wondered why he'd bothered.

Tessa shifted her gaze from his too-white teeth to his inky eyes. "Where'd you get yours?"

"Answering a question with a question isn't very friendly," he noted as he easily weaved in and out of traffic. His hands looked ridiculously large against the thin steering wheel but he handled the vehicle with competence and confidence. He glanced at Rogue's sleeping form and noted that she'd stopped moving; she'd wake soon.

"You've kidnapped me. I'm not feeling very friendly," she responded softly. The dark intimacy of the moving van didn't seem conducive to a screaming fit or hysterics.

Not that she was that type of woman, because she wasn't.

"I didn't kidnap you." He nodded toward Rogue. "She did."

"Why?"

"If I knew, I'd know."

Tessa shifted and tried to get comfortable. Unfortunately, Fitzroy took up a good deal of the space back there with her and she really didn't want to touch him. Touch usually made it harder to block out thoughts and she did not want to be in Fitzroy's dreaming mind.

She licked her lips and struggled to sit up, settling for leaning against the cold metal wall of the vehicle. "I crossed someone. Someone very powerful. The lines are his way of reminding me that the fight between us isn't over."

"Who'd you cross?"

"You wouldn't know him."

Bishop grinned in the mirror, spotting her form even in the shadows of passing streetlights. "Try me."

"His name was Bogan."

"Was?"

"He's dead."

"So the tattoos were all for nothing."

"They would be if I truly believed he was really dead."

"You just said-"

"He's not the kind of man who'd let a silly thing like death keep him down."

Bishop nodded and didn't speak as he maneuvered off the highway and headed for the small motel a few miles off of the highway. As the darkness of the country encompassed the van, what little sight of Tessa Bishop had faded. When he spoke his voice was barely more than a whisper. "I've met people like that." He left it unsaid that he was sitting next to a person like that.

* * *

The room was only dimly lit when she woke. Bishop had turned on only one of the lamps and stood with his back to it. He was gazing out the window, waiting for something or someone to attack so he could feel useful.

Rogue sat up and ran her hand through her sweat-spiked hair and struggled to remember what she'd Seen. Her partner had laid a pad of paper and a pen on the small side table between the double beds and she reached for it blindly.

Not figuratively blind, literally blind.

Whenever her mother's, Irene's, powers were in use Rogue's ability to see became questionable. It was a side effect of the powers themselves, and was why Rogue usually avoided using them. However, in sleep her control was not what it was when she was awake, and certain abilities took the opportunity to take over for a while.

Without any sort of notice, the pen in her hand moved across the paper quickly. She was sketching quickly, forming a masterpiece without trying. She closed her eyes because not being able to see disconcerted her and ignoring what her subconscious did, she turned her head to where she could sense Bishop. "What's our status?" She asked in a croaky throat, knowing even without sight that he was bringing her a cup of water to ease the pain.

She drank greedily and felt her fingers cramping from the speed with which she drew. Bishop took the cup away when she finished and sank heavily onto the bed beside her. "Pulse is in enemy hands, Fitzroy is still unconscious, and our other guest fell asleep about half an hour ago."

Rogue nodded and felt Tessa's presence on the bed opposite. "Do you know who she is?"

"Besides a member of Hellfire?"

Rogue grinned and felt the pen begin to slow at the same time her eyes began to tingle. This time when she opened them she could clearly see Bishop's broad features inches away. "Besides that?"

"No, should I?"

"By the name of Tessa, no. I was just wondering if she'd confided her true name to you."

"Why would she confide in me?"

"I did."

"You're a fool."

She pressed a kiss against his stubbled cheek and stood. "In the history texts, they refer to her as Sage."

Bishop glanced at the sleeping brunette across from him. "Sage as in...the X-Man Sage?"

Rogue nodded and threw the picture she'd just drawn onto his lap, heading for the bathroom. "The same."

Bishop studied what she'd drawn, seeing some sort of blue-inked ape thing in a lab coat. Resolved to have to wait for her to explain it's significance, he leaned back and sighed wearily. "I thought we were avoiding the X-Men?"

Rogue brushed her teeth and washed her face before returning to his side. She tapped the picture and nodded at Sage, nee Tessa. "It's a little late for that, but I've got a plan." She pointed at Fitzroy's unconscious form on the floor beside Sage's bed. "Wake him."


	13. Three Months to Kill

**Chapter 13: Three Months to Kill**

* * *

_Bayville_

_Day 33_

From the front gate the building was no different from any of the other multi-million-dollar homes strategically placed miles apart in the neighborhood. The people who could afford this area paid for both exclusivity and privacy. Charles Xavier was no different. He'd researched extensively for several weeks, both in conventional methods (online, newspaper, interviews) and unconventional (mentally seeking out any pertinent information from the realtor company that was handling the venture he was most interested in). Though he'd wavered briefly between setting up his school/haven in Massachusetts instead of New York, he'd settled on the closer location to one of the cultural centers of the world. Not only because he himself had many meetings in New York City, but also because he'd like to educate his students not only in control of their special abilities, but also in general specific studies. Economy, ethics, and genetics were few of the subjects he'd at least oriented the students in, and a select few were offered advanced sessions with him.

Or so his auto-biography claimed.

One of the tenets of accepting the mission offered was that Bishop had several tomes of literature to read, including the life-stories of Xavier and Magneto, and several in-depth case-files of both S.H.I.E.L.D. and H.Y.D.R.A. Bishop knew more about most of the truly powerful and publicized mutants of this era than they knew themselves. He also had a good deal of influence over them simply because where as they knew the present and the past, he knew their future.

With Rogue's help, he would use that to save his own future.

It was a tangled web they weave.

* * *

_Hardenferd, New York_

_Day 32_

Fitzroy was a coward. Rogue didn't have to do more than raise her finger threateningly for him to talk. She was almost disappointed that after all the lead-up to this fateful meeting that it would be so easy to get the information they needed. Though, of course, there was the chance that he was lying.

Her knuckles cracked with tension. In her mind several "energies" were tinged red, a sure sign of aggression and anger. Rogue brushed them aside and struggled to conjure some of the more calming presences that hid in her shadows. As she did so, she closed her eyes and leaned her head far enough to the side to cause an ominous cracking sound. Her back released a bit of its tension as she mentally flitted through the dozens of energy signatures in her mind. In fact, they seemed to by multiplying right before her eyes...

Rogue snapped to awareness but not to the conversation going on before her. Indeed, she began to focus on her mind and found a most disturbing situation inside.

Her psyches were splitting apart. She'd stressed herself to the point that her absolute control over her own mental space was fracturing. Rogue slipped from the dingy motel room and into the night air, taking deep breaths as she sought to find inner peace. It was easier than most would imagine.

Sinking onto a rusted bench outside of her room, Rogue closed her eyes and inundated herself in the energy of her abilities. Whereas before she had large, but generalized and thus easily controlled energy spheres floating around, she now had smaller, faster, and harder to capture ones. Without really looking she could see that they weren't even really sphere-like anymore. They were elongating and beginning to take shape.

Humanoid-shape.

Rogue opened her greenish gray eyes and glared into the inky darkness in front of her. She could sense a dozen life signs nearby, and three just behind her. She could also hear the low murmur of Bishop's voice, with accompanying high-pitched by fear replies from Fitzroy.

Tessa for the most part remained quiet. Rogue smirked and wondered if she should refer to the brunette as Sage. It was the name the woman had chosen for herself when she'd escaped the Hellfire Club, in about three years with the aid of the X-Men. Rogue's smirk faded as she tried to visualize the changes to the timeline caused by the early withdrawal of Sage from a cornerstone mutant confederation.

Of course, none of that really mattered. No matter what, the time line would change. It was just a question of to what degree. Maybe the future she and Bishop returned to would be an approximation of the one they'd left. Maybe it would be completely different, for better or worse. They wouldn't know until they got there; if they got there.

With a sigh and another neck-cracking shrug of tension easing, Rogue concentrated back on her current task. With ruthless and cold determination, she sought to strip the psyches of the small bits of identity they'd begun to accrue again and to force them into conglomeration again.

If she'd been the girl who'd left this time a month ago, she might have even felt guilty about doing it.

* * *

_Day 33_

The black Lexus pulled to a stop between the large Angel fountain and the steps leading to the door. They sat in silence for a few moments just staring at the very large house before them. On one side of the house small trees and bushes did nothing to hide the proximity of a cliff overlooking the Atlantic. On the other side, a large forest stretched for a few miles, before dissipating as it approached another large mansion and property.

Sage leaned forward, checking her dark burgundy lipstick in the rearview mirror and taking the chance to speak to Bishop one last time. "He's going to be suspicious."

Bishop didn't remove his opaque sunglasses as he turned to stare at her out of the corner of his eye. He was looking rather attractive in a somber all black suit that hid his weapons in a pleasing look of smooth cloth. He didn't doubt that Wolverine would smell the gun; however that wouldn't prove to be a problem with the cover Rogue had formatted for him. Sage's lips were perilously close to his as he spoke. "Just remember what's at stake and the story we've come up with. There shouldn't be a problem."

Sage shrugged and slid back onto the back seat. She was also dressed in all black, a pant suit with just a hint of silver in the piping. She slid large Audrey Hepburn style sunglasses up her nose, successfully hiding the large black hooks imprinted on her cheeks. They were one of her only identifying marks and Bishop learned from observation that their presence bothered her. At random intervals she would run a long slim finger down them, fingering them as if they were truly their namesake and someone was dragging them through her skin.

He knew the feeling. His own brand had the irritating tendency to itch.

Bishop tore his gaze from Sage and took in the rest of their surroundings. The house plans had been memorized, but the mansion's security measures had changed so often in this time that recording them had been useless. He could see the cameras and the motion detectors, and ill-hid missile launchers. He knew that their presence had been noted by now and opened his door. The Lexus was a large-bodied car, yet it still was awkward for his tall body to get out. His dreads skimmed the framing of the opening but he did not grimace.

Three figures were just inside the doors of the mansion and he kept his eyes on them as he walked around and opened Sage's door. When she stood he realized again with a start that she was very tall and could easily stare into his eyes if she was so inclined. The cold way she slid by him on her way to the door made it clear that at the moment she was not inclined.

* * *

_Day 32_

Her mind once again the structured haven she required it to be, Rogue idled in the odd static her mutancy created. She'd constructed various spheres of energy in different colors and sizes. The larger ones like telepathy, projectile forming, and teleportation were easily subdued. It was the more unique abilities that gave her trouble most of the time.

For instance, Quicksilver's speed was unlike any other ability she'd ever imprinted. It remained a single orb. The same with Shadowcat's phasing. Abilities like Bishop's energy blasts were similar in mechanics to Cyclop's own energy blasts, which were similar to Sunspot's. Any other such abilities were integrated with the three and were easily controlled. Sometimes, Rogue had to break down the abilities in order to classify them correctly. Magma's lava form and other abilities were integrated with Pyro's fire control and Jean's pyrokinesis (something Rogue had only discovered during her time in the future while she'd trained to control the psyches in her mind; in fact Rogue was almost sure that Jean didn't even realize she had such a gift); this integration was possible only because all three abilities were based on control of the basic element of fire.

Rogue focused on the single orbs floating about and singled out a virulent orange one. It was the brightest of the all the colored spheres due to her frequent use of it. She called the ability to her and mentally it floated closer while physically she could feel a tingling in her extremities signaling its presence.

It was Pulse's orb.

Gazing into the small globe she could almost see a face form out of the energy within, his face. Casting out her other hand, she didn't even have to call for her own ability. It was simply there. At all times, simply there waiting.

Her orb was the only multi-colored orb; it was brown with streaks of green and white throughout. It was the most solid of all the energy and it did not hover over her hand. It settled heavily into it, echoing through her mind so that she actually _felt_ the weight of it in her true body.

Rogue slowly started to push the two orbs together and with a small rush of escaping energy the orange vaporous orb surrounded the mottled one until the streaking energy all had an orange tint. Rogue held the orb in her hands and felt the small pain inside her chest where her power disengaged and hid inside the orb in her hands.

It always felt like a small death to lock away this part of herself. Sometimes she feared that she'd lock it away and it might never come back. For years she'd hated this part of herself, but only in recent months had she realized that it was as integral to her as her organs. She needed it to survive even if she didn't like the effects it had on her life.

The door of the motel room opened and Rogue jumped. Her eyes flicked to Bishop's face before she slid over on the bench and he sat. "What have you got?'

"I've got three names and account numbers. Shouldn't be too hard to track down and see if the transfers check out. We could have confirmation in a day or two."

Rogue nodded slowly. "Or we could have in an hour."

Bishop sighed heavily. "Don't mistake me, Rogue. I don't fight this for him. I fight it for you. It takes a lot out of you, and you've already had a lot taken. We still need to get Pulse back-"

"Pulse will escape himself and find us."

"How do you know?"

She grinned. "Because I know him. No prison can hold him."

Bishop stared at her suspiciously, his fingers rubbing softly over the notebook in his hand. "Did you leave him on purpose?"

Rogue out and out laughed. "No, but I should've thought of it." Her amusement faded as she snatched the notebook from his hand. "Any names we recognize?"

Bishop nodded. "Shaw, of course. Fury from S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Who's this third name?" Rogue asked, her brow scrunching in concentration as her mind scanned the memories and information stored in her mind, trying to place it. "Nathaniel Essex," she murmured aloud as she pondered it. It sounded familiar...

Bishop stood and paced before the bench, his thoughts clear on his face. "Who's the first target?"

Rogue set the book aside and thought. "I'll go after Pulse, since you seem so damned worried. We'll hit S.H.I.E.L.D."

"What about me and the woman?"

Rogue grinned. "I have an idea."

Bishop froze, his eyes widening as he recognized the look on Rogue's face. "An idea?"

She nodded and stood, stretching out the kinks from sitting there for so long. "A great idea." She turned for the door, pausing long enough to ask, "Did you pack a suit?"

"What would I need a suit for?"

* * *

_Day 33_

"Dr. Xavier?" Bishop's voice boomed as he followed Sage up the steps. The front doors were pulled open and the wheel-chair bound mutant slid outside easily. Though Bishop had greeted him, Xavier only had eyes for Sage.

"What's happened?" He demanded when Sage froze several steps down from him. Behind him, Logan and Ororo glanced at each other in confusion. Neither had any idea who the two strangers were on their steps but both felt a strange sense of foreboding.

Sage stared at her former mentor from behind her sunglasses and her hands curled into fists. She'd not seen him in person for over three years. He'd trained her in a whirl-wind clandestine month; preparing her for the job of being Shaw's assistant. She'd been custom-made for the job, for being his spy within the Hellfire Club. She'd been young enough to consider it an honor at the time.

Sage waited until she was sure her eyes were cool and calm before she slid off the shades. "We've encountered a problem, Charles. I require your assistance."

Xavier was a bit taken back by the tone, but shrugged it off. It seemed to be the week for emergencies. "Yes, of course. Please come in."

Sage and Bishop followed Xavier and Ororo as they led the way.

Logan remained at the door. When the male stranger had walked by, he'd smelled...familiar.


	14. Four Winds

**Chapter Fourteen: Four Winds and Seven Seas**

* * *

_Day 32_

Fitzroy was quiet as Rogue and Bishop reentered the room. Sage's brown eyes were cool and blank as she watched the duo move silently around them. Bishop sat down at the desk, a cheap plaster-board creation that seemed frail beside the large man. He pulled out his weapon and methodically began to dismember and clean it. He didn't even glance at Rogue when she moved to stand across from Fitzroy.

"If you're lying to us, I'll know." Rogue waited until he'd looked up at her to continue. "You ran from the future because you feared me." She slid one of her gloves off. "You were right to run. I'm very dangerous," she explained with a small smile, "and if you're lying to us about anything you're going to see why."

Rogue slid her hand around Fitzroy's cheek before he could speak and with a sigh released her control over her natural abilities. Slowly, almost tentatively, his memories and thoughts began to slide across the surface of her mind. She took the knowledge she needed and spindled everything else into a small sphere to join the others in her subconscious.

When she opened her eyes Fitzroy was unconscious. He breathed slowly and she knew from experience that he didn't dream. They never did after her touch. Their minds were blank, almost healing themselves after her assault upon them.

She stood and walked to Bishop, looking over the information he'd written down as he'd questioned Fitzroy. "He didn't lie. These are the people he sold the samples to."

Bishop nodded absently and reassembled his weapon. "And now?"

Rogue sighed and looked into the small mirror that hung above the desk. Her green-grey eyes looked cold when she spoke. "No loose ends."

Bishop loaded the gun.

* * *

_Day 33_

_New York City_

The Hellfire Club was less intimidating in the daylight; it lost most of the sinister shadows and dangerous aura. It became more like the business building it was supposed to be. Suited men and women moved in and out of the front doors quickly, buzzing about with important matters on their minds. Some were here on real business. Some were here on errands of a different nature.

Rogue was here on a rescue mission, though she didn't really believe he'd need rescuing. Pulse had always been more than capable of slithering out of any tight situation he'd gotten himself into. This was a different time and place for him, however. There was no telling what he could and could not, or would not, do here. He was used to the high tech software and hardware of the future. Rogue wasn't truly sure he even knew how to pick a lock by hand.

Apparently he could figure it out, however, since he was strolling calmly out the front door of the Club looking only a little worse for wear. Rogue fought the urge to gape at him and quickly made her way to his side. "Have a nice stay?"

Pulse grinned. "Absolutely wonderful. They even leave little mints on your pillows."

"Now, really?" Rogue drawled as she wrapped one arm around Pulse's and pulled him South when they exited the gates of Hellfire. Rogue quickly wrapped illusion around them so that within seconds they faded from sight almost like they'd never been there at all.

"Oh, yes," Pulse replied, "And by mints I mean hooks and by pillow I mean torture chamber."

"Sounds fun," Rogue said with a grin, "but are you ready for some real work now?"

Pulse glared at her in mock-anger. "Depends on whether or not you're planning on leaving me behind again."

"I don't intend to."

"That's not a promise."

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

* * *

_Day 33_

_Bayville_

Bishop and Sage sat calmly in the chairs opposite Xavier's desk and waited for him to speak. Despite the friendly greeting at the door the tension between the trio was sky high and climbing. The second they'd all been seated Xavier had sent Storm and Wolverine out on some errand, eager to have any business with Sage kept quiet.

It wasn't so much who Sage was, but what Xavier had made her. He could preach peace and co-existence all he wanted but even he took precautions. With enemies both diverse and far-reaching he'd made sure that he was in control of the situation as much as he was able.

Sage was part of that.

Long before he'd found Ororo on a college campus or Logan on a rampage through a distant town, long before he'd even broke away both philosophically and personally from Magneto, he'd found Sage and put into motion a series of events that would eventually lead to him founding this school...with Hellfire money.

Xavier himself had a bit of money for himself, an inheritance from his deceased parents but it hadn't been anywhere near enough to support a school of this magnitude or technological innovation. For that he needed outside support from a source that wouldn't interfere in any way nor object to the specific body of students.

He'd sent Sage into the Hellfire Club to learn more of its mutant agendas and its mutant inner circle. He hadn't expected that she'd help provide his dream with a reality. Using her telepathic skills and her computer-like logic/intelligence Sage had manipulated her way to the Black King's side, a place of great power and importance. She'd taken the name Tessa and proceeded to take most of the reigns of the Hellfire Club's New York charter. Using that control she'd convinced Shaw to fund Xavier's school and to remain aloof from it.

That would change in a few days, but none of them knew that at the moment.

Sage cleared her throat, "Charles, we've come here because there's been a new development in the Hellfire Club. One we felt must be dealt with quickly."

"What's happened?"

"For one thing, my cover has been blown. I was caught sending a missive to you and we barely escaped," Sage lied smoothly. It's a known fact that lying to a telepath is almost impossible. It's only feasible when it's another telepath doing the lying. Sage was a very capable telepath and liar. "I knew that I must inform you of recent happenings or the world would be lost." A touch on the side of melodramatic but Sage knew he'd buy it. Xavier thrived on adversity.

A glint appeared in Xavier's eye, telling of his interest and curiosity. "Tell me," he commanded as he wheeled himself around the desk to sit closer to the duo. Bishop stifled a grin and studied the Professor with interest. He was one of the most powerful men of this time, renowned for his work and his philosophies even a hundred years from now.

"It started when a man named Trevor Fitzroy teleported into the middle of the Hellfire Club during a meeting of the Inner Circle. Normally he would be executed immediately, the secrecy of the circle intact. However, Shaw stayed the hands of the guards. Fitzroy brought with him something of great interest. A virus called Legacy with the potential to bring on destruction reminiscent of the Black Death. Apparently Shaw had brokered and bought the sample himself and was expecting Fitzroy."

"Why does that distress you?" Xavier asked, picking up on the tones of stress in her voice. He'd come to know every intonation of her voice intimately during their training and her subsequent messages during her tenure at the Hellfire Club.

"Shaw never does anything without going to or through me. We speak on all matters business and personal. He never said anything of this acquisition of his. It was very unlike him." That much was true. Shaw hadn't told her of his bidding and purchase of the virus until afterwards. "Nevertheless, he greeted Fitzroy warmly and introduced him as his new Black Rook. Another pawn to be used and sacrificed. The sample of virus was taken and given to one of our laboratories to study and determine what use it will be to us and if it can be replicated. Fitzroy began to move about the Club freely." Now she began to lie. "I was slowly edged out of Hellfire internal affairs. A few days ago I telepathically overheard plans to kill me. Shaw had surveillance of me writing and sending you a message and didn't believe me when I told him it had to do with our funding the school."

Bishop looked surprised. History had no idea that the Hellfire Club and Xavier's Institute was so closely entwined. It would bear further research when he returned home.

Xavier sighed heavily. "We always knew this day would come. I'm glad you came here. You'll be safe."

Sage smiled bitterly. "Safe in a school built with Hellfire money? I doubt it, but I'll stay for a few days. After that I'm leaving again and I won't be returning. I'll not be your spy anymore, Charles," she said in a soft whisper. She stood and held her hand out for Bishop to stand as well. "Where do you want us to stay?"

Xavier looked up at Sage and realized with a start that she wasn't the young girl he'd sent into a den of snakes years ago. She'd grown up and matured in one of the most dangerous environments possible. He wondered what kind of person she was and if he could truly trust her anymore.

"I'll have two of my students ready up some rooms in the west wing. It's got a beautiful view of the cliffs."

Bishop shook his head. "Only one room, if you would."

Neither he nor Sage offered explanation but Xavier didn't ask for any.

"Of course."

* * *

_Day 33_

_Hidden S.H.I.E.L.D. Base_

_Adirondack Mountains_

The base was hidden in the rock, only two entrances readily apparent. One was reachable by road, the other by sky. Both were heavily guarded and almost impossible to breach. Colonel Fury had both humans and mutants working in his base; both types trained to be deadly and mentally prepared for it as well. Rogue and Pulse each observed one of the entrances then met back up between the two.

"It's a small flat twenty by twenty area. Almost thirty cameras, a dozen guards, and fail-safes built into the ground, the archway, and the surveillance. To get in you need to have proper verbal and numerical pass-codes, as well as passing a corneal and hand scan. I haven't seen inside the compound but no doubt more tests wait."

Rogue listened to Pulse's report before nodding slowly to herself. "Basically the same set up at the front entrance, just double the amount of cameras and guards and add in a DNA scan as well. They really don't want company," she said sardonically as she began to remove her outer clothing. The button-up t-shirt and tweed pants slid to the leaf and moss-covered ground to reveal a black spandex-cotton body suit underneath. Beside her Pulse began to shed his own clothing and revealed the same.

Together they began to remove various belts and instruments from a small cloth bag Rogue had carried with her. When both were comfortably armed and prepared, they started for a large rock face nearby. About half a mile inside that rock wall was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s control centers. Rogue placed her hand on the rock wall and tapped into Avalanche's abilities. She didn't intend to shake things up, however; she used his control over the earth to determine just how wide the distance between the outside and the headquarters inside was.

She spoke as she mentally tallied the distance. "We have a few options. I can teleport us in, which might garner some attention and is a bit dangerous since I'll be doing it 'blind', or I can phase us through the wall if it's not too wide." She finished measuring the distance. "Which it isn't, though we'll have trouble keeping our forward impetus through it. The farther we go into it the more we'll slow down. Prolly take about half an hour."

Pulse scratched his chin and sighed. "I suppose for safety's sake we'll phase through. Teleporting takes a lot out of you anyways."

Rogue nodded and held out her hand. "Ready?"

Pulse thought of his molecules sliding through the wall. "No. I guess we'll be going anyways though."

* * *

_Bayville_

The new guests moved through the hall quietly, not bothering to make small talk or to study their surroundings. Bishop didn't need to; he'd seen the inside of the mansion on several videos and had taken a virtual tour before beginning the mission. Sage didn't need to because she'd been the one to design the place.

Jean took Scott's hand as they walked, not for affection purposes (though that did factor in) but so that they could speak telepathically without Sage noticing. Jean could smell "telepath" all over Sage's brain patterns and despite the Professor's assurances Jean didn't trust strangers. _Scott?_

Though he kept speaking aloud, talking about the mansion and some of it's architectural features, mentally he replied without letting on that he was having two conversations at once. _Yes?_

_I don't trust them._

_Neither do I, Jean, but there's not much we can do about this._

_Do you think they have something to do with Rogue? Maybe they know where she is?_

_I don't think so. If they knew something like that I don't think the Professor would waste time getting them set up in a room. Why is Logan following us?_

Jean surreptitiously looked over her shoulder, smiling at the couple that followed though her eyes slid past the large man and locked onto the smaller man hidden just around the corner. _I don't know, Scott, but as soon as we reach the room I'm going to find out_.

Scott nodded to her mentally and started up the stairs for the second floor, still keeping Jean's hand despite their conversation being over. Bishop took note of that and mentally calculated just how far into their relationship they must be. Legends painted Scott and Jean as star-crossed lovers, torn apart again and again despite the bond between them. They were new and without varnish at the moment, however. They had no idea of the trials they would face.

Sage glanced at Bishop then away, uncomfortable with the feelings this place was spawning in her. What would her life have been like if instead of a spy, she'd become a student? Why had she, instead of Storm or Wolverine or even Jean Grey, been taught to be a spy? What had Xavier been thinking as he picked and chose who would be his X-Men and who would be his underground informants?

Logan's eyes followed the four of them as they walked, taking in the subtle telltale movements that bespoke of the true relationships between people. Scott and Jean's closeness as they walked as well as their joined hands clearly showed how intimate they were with regards to each other (Logan made note to have a talk with Scott later). The way Bishop and Sage walked gave away their lie that he was her bodyguard and trusted friend. They barely knew each other. Bishop walked like a warrior, true, but he also moved like a man who knew his way around. He had knowledge of the layout of the mansion and the wherewithal to use it. Sage also knew the layout but she moved as if she'd never seen it before. Knew what everything was and where it was, but had no idea how to move about it in reality.

Logan didn't know what to make of the strangers.

Neither did his unseen companion. "Who da new folk?"

Logan glared at the Cajun. "I don't know."

Remy grinned. "Gambit t'ink you got an idea."

Logan spared one more glance for the quickly moving out of sight group. "The man smells like Rogue. Very heavily of Rogue."

Gambit studied the back of the stranger as it disappeared around a corner. "Now dat's interesting."


	15. Five Miles From Home

**Chapter Fifteen: Five Miles From Home**

* * *

_Day 34_

_Bayville_

Just past midnight and no one was asleep; Gambit could curse the rambunctious teens. The adults had retired to their respective rooms' hours ago, but the teenage portion of the mansion's inhabitants remained awake and moving around.

Gambit was not pleased. Weren't children supposed to have bedtimes or some such thing?

In the shadows of the den he could see two couples curled up on the large couch there. With cynical eyes he noted who was present and who wasn't. Scott and Jean were ensconced on one corner of the long couch, snuggling in a "PG" way that said more than anything that they had yet to "take the relationship to the next level".

Completely ignored but only three feet away on the opposite end of the couch Tabitha "Boom Boom" Smith and St. John "Pyro" Allerdyce were very much not "PG". The image made Remy grin devilishly and he wished his pseudo-friend luck with the blonde bombshell. No matter how seemingly crazy and out-of-control the Australian played it, Boom Boom was the real deal. The collision of these two big personalities was both amusing to watch and panic-inducing.

On the floor in front of the television, three teenage boys jostled, hooted, and laughed freely as they competed against one another in what can only be described as "X-Box Heaven". Without Storm around they could play the most violent, censorship-worthy game they'd hidden from her, and they were with glee. Bobby, Sam, and Roberto looked like small children as they played, but even Gambit noticed the sidelong glances Sam sent one of the couples on the couch (here's a hint, it wasn't Scott and Jean).

They were looks that promised drama later, but Gambit didn't stick around to watch.

The entrance hall was darkened and empty and despite any training Gambit had his footsteps echoed lightly through the large cavernous space. There was no light on in the kitchen or the dining area. He walked past without checking to ensure occupancy. He wasn't interested in those areas.

There was a light coming from under the Professor's library/office even though the Professor had gone to bed almost an hour and a half ago. Kneeling down and peering through the key-hole, an old-fashioned machination that had disappeared from most modern buildings, Gambit could only grin at what he saw.

They weren't sitting by each other, rather each were in a wingback chair near the fireplace. Kitty held a small laptop and typed away, pausing and looking over at Piotr every few minutes. He would smile at her and gesture for her to continue typing even as his hand held a small charcoal pencil and flew over a small notepad.

They didn't speak vocally, but every look and gesture and smile told a story. She had her hair down and a breeze through the open window behind her sent the long sweeping curtains and her hair drifting. The severe planes of Piotr's face were shadowed in the minimal light, at once making him seem harsher.

The couple was a study in opposites, the man large and imposing, made hard by the troubles of his early life, the woman petite and soft, with a smile that lit up any room. Piotr was shy and kept his thoughts to himself. Kitty was vibrant and spoke without thinking. They were a true testament to the adage that "Opposites attract".

Gambit was happy that Piotr had found someone to make him feel happy, but at the same time it made him feel old and cynical. Remy loved women and women love him, but neither loved each other enough to stick around past breakfast.

For the first time in...well..._ever_ that disturbed him.

He didn't bother to verify the location of any of the other X-Men; he'd seen them all already. Jamie and Rahne, both younger than the rest of the group, had gone to bed hours ago. Nightcrawler had disappeared after dinner in a splash of smoke and brimstone and hadn't been seen since.

Leaving the silently flirting couple to their fun, Gambit followed the shadows along the hall all the way to the not-so-secret elevator that led to the lower levels. In all technicalities he wasn't supposed to know the code to go below, and definitely wasn't supposed to go to the lower levels alone.

He jammed the camera signal and slipped into the small vehicle, pressing the button for the very bottom level. At this late (or early) hour no one should have been down here with the exception of Dr. McCoy, whom Gambit had barely seen since the Professor had given him a "special project".

Gambit and Magneto were very interested in what that special project was.

Given that there wasn't supposed to be anyone on this level at this time of night, Gambit was surprised when he stepped through the elevator doors and saw the end of two shadows easing around the corner.

The camera system was disabled on this level, and Gambit had not done it. He preferred to use a hand-device to broadcast a jamming signal to disrupt single cameras as he moved along the hall, mostly because it usually garnered less attention than the entire level going down at once. Gambit hated attention, at least the kind that involved alarms and armed guards.

The overhead lights were off in favor of the emergency lights placed every fifty feet upon the walls. It made it easy for him to stay in the shadows as he followed the two mysterious figures along several corridors. They weren't heading for the docking bay or for the Danger Room. As they led him west, that also ruled out the Medical Bay and any of the laboratories. The only thing down the western corridor was...Cerebro.

The casual way Gambit had been following the strangers suddenly became more urgent. Even he was aware of just how dangerous Cerebro was in the wrong hands.

Gambit slipped a deck of cards from one of many hidden within his trench coat. At the same time he directed his thoughts toward Professor Xavier who slept several floors above him. _Professor, we've got a problem._

Ahead of him the two figures froze and turned to him as if aware that he was there.

* * *

_Adirondack Mountains_

They waited until sunset to start through the cliff face, that way they'd actually arrive at the other side just before shift-change at nine p.m. In the excitement of departing and arriving people they might actually get to where they want to be before they got caught.

This was S.H.I.E.L.D., so both Rogue and Pulse were assured that they would eventually be caught. It was a matter of when, not if.

They took a running start and Rogue used a bit of Quicksilver's power to give them an extra burst. They hit the wall and slid into it, their momentum propelling them a quarter of a mile through the solid rock within minutes. Then, however, they began to slow very quickly. Within a minute of hitting the half-mile mark their speed had been cut in half. They coasted for a while, making it another quarter of the way in the next fifteen minutes.

They coasted to a soft stop fifteen feet from their destination. If Shadowcat had been the one in the wall, it wouldn't have been a problem. She'd have furthered the degree of her phasing and let the Earth's turning do the work for her. That was not an option for Rogue, however, especially not with another person with her. It would be felt by someone somewhere, like nails on a blackboard. Her very essence would drag across the Earth's magnetic lines and send off every alarm in the installation.

However, Rogue was not Shadowcat, and she had other options open to her.

Telekinesis was the obvious and easiest option. The only disadvantage would be the recovery time she'd need. For at least ten minutes she would be unable to use an active ability like teke' or energy blasts. By tapping into the various healing abilities she'd imprinted and stored she was bringing down what had begun as an hour-long recovery to ten minutes.

This was why it was imperative that they arrive at just the right time to not get noticed immediately.

Using the telekinesis Rogue pushed her and Pulse's molecules through the molecules of the rock, the difficult part being trying to keep from leaving a molecule or two behind. Rogue grinned mentally at that thought, then felt it slide away as she realized it was also _her_ molecules she might leave behind.

They reached the inner wall safely. Rogue slid just the very front of her face out to ascertain where they were. The other side of the wall appeared to be some kind of lab, full of equipment but not currently in use.

Perfect.

Still using the telekinesis Rogue mentally "shut off" the cameras in the room. It was relatively simple to pull the same wire within the different cameras and stop their recording. Once that was done, Rogue and Pulse slipped through the wall and she eased her hold over Shadowcat's power. They reconstituted in a rushing tingling sensation and Rogue sighed with the sudden ease of tension she felt, then tensed again at the wave of exhaustion that followed.

Pulse gripped her arms as she sagged against the counter, surreptitiously taking her pulse as he did so. "Concentrate, Rogue."

She didn't need him to tell her what to concentrate on, nor to tell her to concentrate at all. She was tapping into her "Healing" orb even as he spoke. Rogue gently brushed his hands from her arms and stood rigidly. "Now onto the hard part."

Pulse grinned and began to remove various instruments from the small bag around his waist. "That was the easy part?"

"Yes," Rogue replied stopping his hands. "Don't remove those yet. We've still got to figure out where it is, and get there."

"What about disguises?"

Rogue scoffed and pulled open the door brazenly. "You really think any disguise we can come up with will fool them?"

"No."

"Then we're not going to bother. Act like you belong here and no one will question you." Another lesson Rogue had learned the hard way.

They moved into the hallway, black clad and looking for the all the world like shadows moving in the light. The scientists and doctors that scuttled back and forth all wore white jackets and avoided the couple's eyes. No one questioned them or stopped them.

Rogue could feel her strength returning with each step she took and was grateful for it. She felt Pulse at her side, moving just a step to the left and behind. As always in his presence she felt a tingle of awareness along her spine and she fought not to glance back at him.

They moved along the corridors, avoiding any direct facial contact with the cameras. The longer they kept their faces off security recognition programs the farther they'd get in the compound.

Without asking it was easy to tell where the control/information center would be located. Following the crowd along the corridors, the duo caught glimpses of a large open space. Finally they reached that open space and were astonished to find that it stretched from the upper levels of the facility all the way to the bottom one. Each floor had balconies with small bridge-ways leading to the column in the middle. That column was a computer, and that computer was what they sought.

Rogue casually sauntered around the circular balcony until she reached one of such bridge-ways. "You stay here."

She didn't look to check if he was doing as she said, instead stepping onto the long metal overpass and started for the computer terminal at the end. There was no desk, no seat, just the monitor and a keypad. She really needed only one of the two.

Pretending to be typing, Rogue let her fingers rest against the keys. Through them, she began to explore and search out the location of the lab holding the Legacy Virus strain S.H.I.E.L.D. had purchased from Fitzroy. It wasn't an easy job, but it was a familiar one. Technopathy was the closest she'd ever come to finding an ability like her natural one. She could touch someone and imprint their memories and their abilities. Technopathy, or at least the version of it she'd imprinted in the future, was the ability to speak and manipulate computers in any way, shape, and form and a good portion of that ability was drawing information from the computers. From radios to DVD players to computers, she could pull information from any of them.

Problem was the information she wanted was not in the computer.

Not a bit, not a trace.

She could have screamed in frustration. She didn't want to be here, in this time or place. She didn't want to interact with people from her past. She didn't want to remember what she'd felt like when she was an X-Man. She didn't want to remember any of it.

Stepping away from the computer, her gaze slid to the bottom level and watched as Colonel Fury marched around and made several loud orders. The sight of the scarred S.H.I.E.L.D. leader gave Rogue an idea.

She swiftly joined Pulse on the balcony and pulled him to the set of elevators visible nearby. They waited until it was clear of scientists to step in and head for the bottom floor. "It's not on the server."

"What do you mean it's not on the server?" He hissed in her ear as he stepped close. Several scientists joined them on the next level before they started downward again.

She shook her head and glared at him until they were alone again. "It's not there and most likely never was."

"What do you mean?" He asked just as they stopped again and scientists prepared to get on. Upon encountering the massive glare of the female mutant inside, they decided to wait for the next elevator down.

"I need to get in contact with Fury, literally. He's the one who bought the strain," Rogue explained as her mind faltered without warning. Her thoughts scattered in an un-natural way and when they formed again the first ones that floated up were not good. "They know we're here."

Pulse immediately began to pull tools from his belt and Rogue stopped the elevator. Without speaking or even talking about it, they prepared to exit the elevator, and not through the doors. Rogue reached up and pulled a small opaque dome that protected and "hid" the camera off of the ceiling. In the same movement she yanked the camera from the ceiling as well.

While Pulse went to work on the floorboards, Rogue went for the ceiling. Balancing between two of the walls using her legs, she moved one of the panels to the side and pulled herself onto the roof of the elevator. She pulled two pulley-like instruments from the bag on her belt and positioned them on two of the wide braided steel wires that pulled the vehicle up and down the vertical corridor. Then, pressing a small button on the side of each, she sent them up electronically moving up the wires. When security found them they'd believe she and Pulse went up, when instead they were doing the opposite.

They were going down.

When she dropped back into the elevator mere seconds had passed but both of them had accomplished their goals. Pulse had pulled back the carpeting on the floor and found another small panel made to be removed in case of maintenance. He was leaning through it, attaching two identical pulley-instruments to the wires on bottom. Once that was done he pulled himself out of the large hole and reached for Rogue.

"Promise not to drop me?" She asked with a smile as he lowered her through the hole, his arms rigid as he held her several floors above the "ground" and waited for her to secure herself to the tool now locked onto the wire.

He tried to grin, though it came off more a grinding of teeth as he became exerted with the effort of holding her up. "Only if you piss me off."

Rogue let go of his arm and waited for him to swing down beside her. Though he as heavier than she was, he'd done this before and was prepared for it. Grasping the edge of the outlet he pulled the carpet over the square they'd slipped through and swung around to grasp the pulley handle with ease.

At the same time they pressed the release on the side of the lever and started their descent. It became darker as they got lower and Rogue mentally counted off the levels as they went. There wouldn't be a general alarm going off until it was confirmed that they had broken through the security lockdown and were loose in the building.

They'd have at least five minutes to get to first level and to find Fury. He, no doubt, would know the situation and be prepared for it.

They hit the floor unexpectedly, both making more noise than they intended. Rogue had been too preoccupied with counting levels, and Pulse too busy watching Rogue. Both stood and didn't bother to dust themselves off as they started for the nearest wall. Rogue grabbed his hand and started to phase them through only to freeze halfway.

On the other side of the wall a good dozen commandoes and Fury himself pointed hand-held automatics at them. Rogue smiled sheepishly and began to pull back slowly. Fury tensed and his men followed suit; Rogue immediately froze again.

"I know what you're looking for," Fury said quietly, his blue eyes glinting dangerously.

"Do you?" Rogue asked with a coy look. The entire group was so focused on her, so sure she was the real threat of the two that they didn't notice when she slowly began to pull Pulse back through the wall.

"I do. I have a recommendation for you," Fury replied. "Go home."

"Home?"

He smiled without humor and nodded. "Go home."

Rogue slid out of the wall and into Pulse's arms. They didn't speak as Rogue stilled and started to focus. They teleported out of the elevator shaft, leaving behind only a panicked S.H.I.E.L.D. base and the scent of Brimstone.


	16. Six Five Hand Jive

**Chapter 16: Six-Five (Hand Jive)**

* * *

_Day 34_

_Bayville_

He sat on the roof of the dilapidated two-story, aware but not concerned with the occupants below. Most of them didn't even realize he was there.

It was close to midnight but the people in town had learned that this was not a home to be near at any time. The mutants within were violent and liked to take out their special abilities and lack of acceptance and respect on those least expecting it. Still, even with that little quirk of bad nature the inhabitants of the house were not bad. They did bad things, often without thought, but they were not inherently bad.

Nightcrawler didn't care about any of that.

He sat on their roof because he had nowhere else to go.

He sat on their roof because it was here that he could feel his sister most keenly. This was where she'd lived when he'd first gotten to know her. When they'd fought against each other and surprisingly side-by-side for the first time; Rogue had been the first "sister" in the Brotherhood.

The latest sister, the third in numerical order, flipped herself out of her bedroom window and onto the roof behind the blue mutant, blue in more ways than one. Malevolent energy appeared at her fingertips when she stood on the angled roof and faced the X-Man. For his part he didn't even look at her.

"What are you doing here, Nightcrawler?" Her voice was hard and bitter, it always was. Even at this time of night thick make-up covered her face, making her emotions hard to read. Truthfully one didn't need to read the Scarlet Witch's emotions; they were easily heard in her voice.

Kurt didn't startle or jump at her words. He looked at her over his shoulder before turning back to the view in front of him. The trees blocked out the sightline of town but the wind dancing through the leaves, pulling some into the air and throwing them back and forth was more than enough to entertain the morose mutant.

He didn't reply.

Wanda sighed and let her concentration lapse, the energy in her control slipping away to evaporate in the night air. She cautiously made her way up the slope and sat next to the demon-like boy. "You can't keep coming here. If the others find out-"

"She's back."

Wanda gaped at his interruption and tried to comprehend what he'd said and what it meant.

He'd been coming here for weeks. She'd been aware of it since the very first night. She'd come to expect his presence above her room. She'd come to take comfort from knowing that he was there, and that was something she was not comfortable with.

The rest of the Brotherhood had no idea. They went on with their lives, oblivious to the sentinel above them. They argued, fought, laughed, and slept, never knowing that their sworn enemy was near.

"That's good, right?" Wanda asked and wished immediately that she could take it back. Her voice had been...soft when she'd asked, a note of concern sneaking in where it was not wanted.

Kurt's yellow eyes flickered to her face before focusing on the trees again. "It would be if we could find her."

Wanda's concern slid away in favor of curiosity. "Explain."

He shook his head, blue chin-length hair tossing back and forth as he suddenly stood. "She left this place to join the X-Men. You should, too."

Wanda could only stare in surprise at his statement and watch as he teleported away.

* * *

Sage froze in the act of reaching for the Cerebro's over-ride keypad, her body reacting before her mind did. Someone had just sent a thought directly to one of the telepaths in the building, and she doubted it was a good thing. The thought had come from too close by and had a threat of alarm in it as well.

She backed into the shadows, pulling Bishop's large form into them with her. She didn't speak, instead choosing to telepathically alert him to their situation. _Someone knows we're here._

_Who?_

Sage thought quickly, her eyes darting down the long corridor and trying to spy anything that clued into the "thinker's" identity. Her mental senses branched out as well, reverberating like sound waves off the walls and around the foreign object/person just out of sight. _It's a man, he's tall and thin. Other than that I can't get anything. Mental walls are locked tight. He might have mental abilities of his own_.

Bishop nodded and his hand slipped to the gun at his side. That description could only fit a finite amount of X-Men or Acolytes. He could make a good guess and gamble his weapons against their shadow but it was a step he didn't want to take. _We have to get out of here_.

_I know._

_Without being seen. Got any ideas?_

Sage grinned at him, though he couldn't see it through the cloth mask.

* * *

Gambit idly and quietly shuffled the playing cards he'd drawn from his pocket, waiting for instructions from Xavier. He was almost certain the man had heard the thought he'd sent, and if he hadn't, well...the alarms would be going off in a minute, now wouldn't they?

The Ace of Spades, a lucky card, or so Gambit had always believed. He charged it up, fuchsia energy sizzling up the edges of the thin weapon. He used it to light his way as he rounded the corner, his red-on-black eyes searching out the few remaining shadows for the intruders.

Imagine his surprise when all he saw was a rapidly approaching glove-encased fist.

Then all he saw were stars.

* * *

Sage shook her hand to try and remove some of the pain vibrating along the small bones. Gambit had a really hard jaw.

She watched as the charged card in his hand slipped out mid-fall and drifted slowly away.

He also had a very interesting ability.

She and Bishop jumped over the Acolyte's inert body and ran quickly. Their movement through the air disturbed the card, blowing it up and farther down the corridor. That was farther away from the defenseless Gambit, which Sage decided was a good thing as the duo rounded another corner.

The explosion echoed down the hallway, sound reaching them before smoke and just a bit of fire. The force of it knocked Bishop and Sage off their feet just long enough to steal the breath from their lungs and precious seconds from their escape. Bishop was on his feet first, pulling Sage up with him.

The lights above the elevator were moving, Sage noted as they passed it quickly. Someone or several someones perhaps, were on their way down. Presumably to answer Gambit's call for help, check out the alarm, and/or to put out the small fire just outside of Cerebro.

"We'll have to take the stairs," Sage whispered, not bothering with telepathy with the most powerful mind-reader in the world quickly coming closer. Sage had hacked the mansion's computer system and memorized the blueprints (with just a glance). There were two sets of emergency stairs at opposite ends of every level. They were hidden behind panels, opening by a small button in the crease of the wall. It was planned that way in case the mansion ever came under attack again. There were no weapons or defenses in the staircases, thus no cameras to mark Sage and Bishop's passage.

Bishop had longer legs, but Sage moved faster; together they made good time. They were halfway up the stairs when Sage felt the telepathic "survey". Xavier and company, most likely Ororo and Logan, had found the unconscious Gambit and now the Headmaster was searching for the "intruders".

Sage stumbled to a stop on one of the landings and held out her hand for Bishop to stop moving. "He's counting heads."

"So?"

"We're not where we're supposed to be, are we?" Sage asked sardonically. She unconsciously gripped his forearm tightly as she tapped into her own telepathy. "I'm going to bounce our signals."

"Bounce? Signals?"

Behind closed lids Sage rolled her eyes and concentrated. "I'm going to mirror our mental signatures into the room we're assigned. As long as he doesn't look too closely it should work, but we'll need to get up there quickly. They'll do a person-to-person survey soon."

It was a difficult task to "mirror" mental signatures. It required not only the masking of the actual signatures, but also the production of two others. For your garden-variety telepath it would be impossible. For someone of Sage's class and skill, it was tricky but doable. Sage viewed telepathy as a pond. The psychic plane was that pond and people were stones. Every person caused a ripple in the pond, a starting point for circle upon circle of thought that affected everything around each stone. Telepaths were able to see and "read" those ripples.

In order to fabricate two of these events you had to monitor who was doing the "reading". It's not possible to sustain a false signature; you had to create a fresh ripple for each mind supposed to be there. When Xavier's "wave" slid over the bedroom where Sage and Bishop were supposed to be, Sage would generate a burst of telepathic activity, reminiscent of a small firecracker. In an empty room that "firecracker" would look like the waves of an active mental signature. In quick succession, two of them would look like two active mental signatures. As long as Xavier didn't linger he wouldn't notice that after the initial "ripples" the waves dissipated.

This same method could be used to incapacitate an enemy. Instead of an empty room, place the mental firework inside the mind of your enemy; instant incapacitation with minimal fuss. If the telepath were to take the power and range of the weapon from a firecracker to one of the larger fireworks often shot off for the Fourth of July, you get an instant lobotomy.

When Sage felt certain that the ruse had fooled Xavier, she opened her eyes. Bishop stood close, too close, and he studied her face in concern. "Everything okay?"

Sage forced her face to remain unreadable as she stepped away. "Fine."

They took the last few flights of stairs with ease, their brief breather giving them back the impetus they'd lost in the explosion. Sage knelt by the panel leading into the mansion, pressing her ear against the cool metal as she tried to discern who was on the other side. She couldn't be too active in her telepathic scanning, not with Xavier's mind still open to the mansion. After her clever ruse of minutes earlier she couldn't afford to alert him to the fact that she wasn't where she was supposed to be.

The students had been awoken by the alarm and were moving about in the halls, some sleepily stumbling along, asking what had happened, some rocketing past all fire and energy, excitement and anticipation getting their teen bodies jittery. They moved through the hallway in both ways for several minutes, until finally it cleared long enough for Sage and Bishop to make a break for it.

They eased into the hallway, Bishop flipping the light switch and plunging them into darkness. They moved down the long corridor, slipping past open doorways leading to rooms full of chatter and gossip unnoticed. Since the teenagers had been moving around so much, and doubtless would do so again when Xavier returned to the upper levels, Sage had no fear that their scents would be found out by Wolverine. Both she and Bishop were calmer than anyone else on the floor at the moment, making their scents weaker by comparison, as well.

Sage didn't mind Bishop's steadying hand on her back as they quickly ran up the staircase and slammed through the door to "their" room. Once inside that small unnoticed knot in Sage's stomach eased and the breath she'd been holding slipped out in a rush.

She'd missed this. The rush of sneaking and knowing that it was for a good cause; she'd spent too long on the wrong side of this equation. For the first time Sage realized that she was glad that Rogue and Bishop had kidnapped her from the Hellfire Club. Intentionally or not, they'd granted her most secret wish. She was free of the manipulations and lies and if everything went to plan could be the mutant she'd always dreamed she was meant to be.

An X-Man, maybe? Perhaps a solo mutant, moving around the world and doing what she considered justifiable acts.

Sage pulled her mask off, her dark hair frizzing up from the friction and floating in front of her face.

Maybe she'd leave this whole mutant world behind. Become a mother, a wife, have kids and a "normal" life.

She rubbed clammy hands through her hair, removing the static and restoring it to its shiny sleekness. She smirked at her thoughts and quickly started to replace her and Bishop's "tools" that they'd taken with them. A normal life for the one of the top ten most powerful telepaths in the world? Wasn't going to happen no matter how hard she tried.

"Should we pretend to be asleep?" Bishop asked with some humor, stripping out of the dark long-sleeved top he'd worn, revealing a white sleeveless undershirt that bared his arms and most of his wide chest. Sage pretended not to notice that he was all muscle and stripped down to her own undershirt.

"They already know we're awake," Sage noted as she slid the last evidence of their sojourn into the lower levels out of sight. She stretched in place and knew that Bishop was appreciating the sight. She still wore the same pants, a stretchy black cotton-spandex blend that concealed little and fit her like a glove. He wore a similar pair of pants, cotton with no spandex and baggy with many pockets for various things.

"So, what's the con?"

"The con?" Sage asked over her shoulder moving to stare out the window. The several of the teens had spilled out of the mansion and looked to be performing perimeter security.

"What seemingly innocent thing are we going to be doing when they storm in here?"

Sage smiled to herself but let it slip away before she turned to Bishop. "Something that would make us completely oblivious to anything and everything around us."

Bishop sat down on the edge of the bed and studied Sage's smooth face. "And that would be?"

Sage threw herself at him, knocking him back onto the bed as she straddled his abdomen. "Pretending."

She could hear footsteps coming closer to the door but Bishop couldn't hear anything over the sudden pounding of his heart. Sage pulled off her undershirt and revealing a black cotton bra that contrasted beautifully with her pale alabaster skin. Their mouths fused together as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

His hands were large; his fingers rough and callused from years of holding the diamond-patterned handle of his gun. Her skin felt like silk under his fingertips and he moaned into her mouth as he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her closer.

Despite all her plans Sage hadn't anticipated his reaction to her.

Nor her to him.

They were still entwined like that when Logan kicked the door open.


	17. Seventeen Steps

A/N: What is it with me and waiting so long to update? Maybe...just maybe...if I got more reviews...from saaaaayyy...READERS...I'd update faster. (BLACKMAIL!!)

* * *

**Chapter 17: Seventeen Steps**

* * *

_Day 34_

_Bayville_

Sage and Bishop didn't jump apart like most startled lovers would, or like many would expect most startled lovers to as they've seen this situation in movies many times. Instead the two mutants slowly turned their heads to the intruder and stared with curiosity. Bishop still had his hands wrapped around Sage's waist; her hands were clutching Bishop's large muscular shoulders. They made quite a picture of contrasts and similarities as they sat there in the light spilling from the hallway. Sage look fragile next to all of Bishop's bulk, her skin was so much paler than his but her hair was darker.

They both had the same blank look on their faces.

"What are you doing?" Logan snarled, his temper taking his inches from popping his claws.

Ororo stepped into the room, all grace and long legs, and laid a calming hand on the smaller man's shoulder. Almost instantly his emotions eased and he softened. He stood a little straighter and breathed more calmly. Sage noted his reaction to the female mutant's presence and stored it away for later use.

Ororo casually stepped past the warrior and explained more fully. "There was an intrusion in the lower levels. Have you been here all night?"

Sage knew that her trick from earlier had fooled Xavier into thinking that both she and Bishop were in their assigned quarters, so she wondered why the two of them were on this fool's errand. She slid out of Bishop's arms and instantly missed their warmth. To give herself time to think she reached for her small luggage sack and pulled out a clean shirt. When she found herself covered from head to toe again, she turned back to the couple at the door and decided to be blunt. "I felt Xavier brush against my mind not even ten minutes ago, so I know that you know that Bishop and I were here."

"Consider this confirmation," Logan replied in his quiet deadly voice.

"That's a very big word, James," Sage said with a very malicious smile.

Logan's feral smile faltered and his eyes snapped to Sage's face with alarming sharpness. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

Ororo and Bishop had no idea what the two of them were a breath away from fighting over but they could feel the tension in the room skyrocketing. Bishop stood and towered over everyone except Ororo. He stepped between Sage and Logan and put his hands up in a universal sign of surrender. "We were here all night and know nothing about any break-in." He kept his voice low and soothing, though it clearly had no affect on either Sage or Logan.

"I didn't say break-in," Ororo replied just as quietly, "I said intrusion."

"There's a difference?"

"We believe so."

Suddenly Xavier's voice echoed through his X-Men's minds with very clear authority. _Leave them be, I need you down here._

Ororo and Logan left without another word.

"He's got them are a right tight leash," Sage said as she moved back to the bed. Bishop breathed out deeply and let his hands fall to his sides.

"Why do I suddenly feel like I just ran a marathon?"

"Because you're easily intimidated."

Bishop froze at the new voice and turned his head just enough to catch a shadow out of the corner of his eye. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to get the free peep show," Rogue said with a laugh as she disillusioned herself and Pulse where they both sat on the dresser near the window. The two of them had large grins on their faces as they slowly began to applaud. "That was niiiiice."

Sage didn't blush, but Bishop did.

He changed the subject quickly. "What are you doing here?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. was a bust," Pulse supplied, employing his knowledge of twenty-first century slang.

"What do you mean?"

Rogue slipped off the dresser and moved to study the computer at which Sage was now working. As she did so the cavalier manner in which she'd greeted them also slipped away. "We infiltrated the base and searched their computer system for any information about Legacy, but found none. We started procedures to interview S.H.I.E.L.D. operative Fury, Nick D. but were intercepted. We received enough information to realize that it wasn't there, however."

Bishop frowned and crossed his arms as he thought it over. "Then where is it?"

Rogue sat down heavily and sighed. "Home."

"Excuse me?"

"He said to go home, and since I highly doubt someone is experimenting with deadly viruses in Caldecott County, I came here."

Sage suddenly sat up and turned to the trio. "Beast is working on some new project. I heard some of the X-Men talking about it earlier. He's been locked up in his lab for a two days now, consumed with working on it."

Rogue smiled softly and cocked her head just a bit to the side. "We'll need a distraction, something to get him out of that lab."

Pulse stood and moved to the window, the flickering of lights drawing his attention. "I think you just got it."

Perhaps it was the edge to his voice that warned them that this distraction wasn't a good one.

Rogue moved aside the curtain just enough to see who had arrived. In the dark it was hard to get a good look, but she still recognized the vehicles and the man and woman who stepped from them. "This is not good."

Sage stood and moved to Rogue's side, stiffening as she too recognized the visitors. "I need to leave."

"That won't be necessary," Rogue assured the dark-haired woman.

"I need to leave now," Sage replied as she reached for her bag, sliding her computer into it as she did so.

Rogue's face and voice hardened. "I said that won't be necessary. They won't be staying long."

The knocking on the front door echoed all the way through the foyer and down the hall, reaching Rogue's sensitive ears easily. She started for the door, reaching for the knob and pausing just as she touched it. "I wonder what they're playing at, coming here."

Bishop checked his gun and turned off the safety before sliding it back into the holster. "Let's go find out."

Pulse moved to go with them but Bishop glared at him until he stopped. "You're not coming."

"Why not?"

"Maybe because you were their prisoner?"

"You don't think I can handle myself?"

"No, I don't. I think you're a hothead who could expose us."

"What do you think Rogue walking down there and kicking ass is going to do?"

"Who says she's going to kick ass?"

"The fact that she's already gone."

Bishop turned around and sure enough Rogue had disappeared into the darkened hallway. "Shit."

* * *

Rogue stayed in the shadows, allowing a bit of Nightcrawler's ability to become active, not enough to turn her blue but just enough that the shadows embraced and hid her from sight.

Sebastian Shaw and Emma Frost stood in the foyer, their security at their backs and the X-Men standing before them. Shaw and Xavier were speaking and neither looked happy. Rogue moved a bit closer so she could hear what was being said.

"...understand what you're saying. None of my students have left Bayville in the past two days. It is during the school week."

"I know what I saw, Charles. I demand you show her this moment," Sebastian replied, snapping his fingers. Behind him his security moved into a stiff stance, their guns armed and ready. Their masks prevented anyone from reading their faces and what little empathy Rogue called up (not wanting to reveal her presence) showed that they also had little to no emotion.

Almost like robots or automatons.

"Rogue is not here, Mr. Shaw. If you do not believe me, have Ms. Frost search the building with her telepathy."

"You are more than talented enough to fool me, Charles," Emma said smoothly from her place at Shaw's side. She was dressed in her Hellfire best, white from head to toe. Her top revealed more than it concealed and seemed to almost have a vague "X" shape. Her pants were leather and skintight and blended in well to the knee-high white boots she wore. Add a white trench coat on top of that and you had one very intimidating woman.

Rogue's mind started to plot, mapping out the placement of the X-Men, Acolytes, and Shaw's men in her mind. She could clearly see how she would go about it if she decided to incapacitate them all, but she was unsure whether or not to interfere.

Shaw was here looking for her.

Xavier had no idea she was here.

Shaw had the tendency to get violent when things didn't go his way.

No one here was prepared to deal with that violence.

Rogue felt Bishop appear behind her, intuitively knowing where she would hide herself to watch. His hand wrapped around her wrist and started to slowly pull her back from the foyer and towards his and Sage's room.

She let him.

Once they were back in the room Rogue deactivated Nightcrawler's abilities and stood stiffly. "They're here looking for us."

Sage worked at her computer quietly and did not respond. She was clearly tense, however, and Rogue could see over her shoulder enough to see train schedules. Pulse ignored Sage and paced back and forth across the room, muttering under his breath. He stopped and glared at Bishop and Rogue, his thoughts clear on his face. "What do we do? Fight them? Run?"

Rogue and Bishop locked eyes, both of them thinking the same thing. "If we leave," Rogue replied, "Shaw will start a fight here and the X-Men will come out on the worse end of it."

"I thought they were 'highly trained' and 'capable of anything'?" Pulse asked snarkily. Rogue glared at him and under the force of it his temper eased. He smiled apologetically and sat down on the edge of the bed softly.

"We are. We've never faced anyone like Shaw before, though. Magneto for all his plans and bad ideas still thinks he's doing it for the good of mutant-kind. He holds back with us, because in the end we are his people. Shaw doesn't feel that. He knows he's doing bad things and he revels in it. He will not hesitate to employ deadly force."

Bishop's eyes were unfathomable as he stared down at his partner. "We?"

Rogue's face went cold. "They."

"So, do _we_ stay or do we go?" Sage asked as she finally turned from her computer to stare at them. She'd been a latecomer to this gang but she was clearly melding into it seamlessly.

Rogue licked her lips and closed her eyes, trying to envision all the possible ways this could turn out. She could have tapped into Irene's ability and truly Seen but that would alert the telepaths to her presence. In the end, she bowed to Bishop's authority.

"We stay," he decided, drawing his gun from its holster. "If we're going to be exposed let's make it count."

* * *

Gambit had a hell of a headache but didn't let it show. His jaw ached and he flexed it as he stood there, but again he didn't let it show. This was not the sort of situation where you let your enemies see the weakness.

The X-Men didn't realize it but this was a very dangerous situation. They were all in various states of tension, some of them in their uniforms, some in their sleepwear. They moved restlessly, anxious for the tension of the situation to come to a head or to dissipate.

Gambit fingered the cards in his pocket and waited patiently. He'd been in this kind of place before, knew what to expect and what to do. He stayed in the shadows waiting for a sign of aggression and hoping that it wouldn't come. Despite their adversarial attitudes, the truth was that he didn't begrudge the X-Men anything.

If this became a fire fight there would be injuries and maybe even death. Most of the X-Men could fight mutant abilities with their own mutant abilities but didn't realize how to fight bullets. It was a deficiency in Xavier's training plans, one that Gambit intended to point out after this.

A movement at the top of the staircase drew Gambit's eyes but he could see nothing. He shifted into a better stance so that he could view the stairs and the front door, as well as their guests all in one swoop. He also removed a pack of cards from his pocket and began to shuffle them, no longer content with simply knowing they were there.

"I may be talented, Ms. Frost-"

"Please, call me Emma. We were once friends, Charles."

"Once," he repeated back at her before clarifying, "but no longer."

"I'm hurt," she purred back, moving to wrap an arm around Shaw's.

"Do you truly expect me to believe you have no idea the location of one of your students? Surely you're more responsible than that?"

"As you have no doubt intuited from my computer files," Xavier paused, "that you hacked into, Rogue has been missing for a month. She is not here, nor has she been here. She has been moving throughout the country leaving a trail of sorts. It did end in New York City. I, however, have no clue or inclination as to what she may have been doing there."

Shaw seemed to contemplate Xavier's words. "If that is the story you're going to stick with..."

He gestured to his security force and their guns rose, taking aim at the group of teenagers standing across from them. Their fingers stroked the triggers and started to press down when suddenly they froze. Not just physically, but mentally as well. They didn't blink, didn't move, and didn't breathe.

Shaw turned to his men, waving his hand in front of their unseeing faces slowly. "Release them, Charles."

"I would," Xavier assured him, "if I were the one doing this."

Shaw stiffened and turned back to the crowd, drawing a semi-automatic from beneath his jacket. "Try and take control of me and we'll see how well you come out of it."

"Mr. Shaw, I already stated-"

"He's not talking to you, Professor," Rogue called out from the top of the stairs. "He's talking to me."


	18. Eight Dead Boys

**Chapter 18: Eight Dead Boys**

* * *

_Day 34_

_Bayville_

"He's not talking to you, Professor," Rogue called out from the top of the stairs. "He's talking to me." She smiled coldly at the group below her, all in various stages of shock. "And if I'm not mistaken, that sounds like a threat." Rogue inclined her head to the side, not moving her eyes from Shaw but clearly no longer speaking to him. "Did that sound like a threat to you, Bishop?"

The large warrior stepped out of the shadows but remained several feet behind Rogue, willing to give her some leeway. "It did."

Rogue's smile grew broader and she slowly made her way down the steps. She made quite the sight in her dull black cotton cat suit, not skintight but close enough. She'd never changed into regular clothes after the failed break-in at S.H.I.E.L.D. Her short hair was ruffled, curling up in the front and adding a dash of attitude to her look. The tattoo over her right eye seemed harshly new to her ex-compatriots and they all took a big mental step back from this stranger.

She was not the Rogue they'd once known.

She didn't look like her, didn't walk like her, didn't smile like her (not that they'd ever seen Rogue smile).

She didn't even talk like her, in that heavy Southern accent.

"You wouldn't want to be threatening me, Sebastian. I'm not a very nice person."

Shaw gave a small smile but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "What a coincidence, neither am I."

* * *

_Day 33_

_New York City_

No handcuffs could hold him, but then again they hadn't used any. Pulse snickered into the pitch black cell security had thrown him into and reached for the hidden tool belt they hadn't found in the lining of his suit jacket.

Arrogance would be the Hellfire Club's downfall.

Lock-picking was incredibly hard in the light, and with no light could prove impossible. Pulse had faith in his abilities (is it faith or ego?), and quickly set to work. Outside the door low mumbles indicated he had company but he'd have to worry about that after he escaped this, pardon the pun, hellhole.

The lock was old but in almost new condition; Pulse had the right tools if he could find them. He'd practiced with the half-century old instruments in simulators back home but he'd yet to have to use those skills in a life-or-death situation, which this most definitely was.

After the White Queen, Emma Frost, had been unable to see into his mind, the tension in the room had gone considerably up. She was supposed to be one of the most powerful telepaths on the planet, but little did they know that no telepath had ever been able to get into Pulse's mind. It was a helpful quirk of his mutant ability. He was a living, breathing mutant "off-switch".

It's what had drawn Rogue to him in the first place.

The sudden lack of tension in the long rigid tool in his hand signaled his success and he began to open the heavy door slowly. It was made of thick wood, very much keeping with the overall eighteenth century feel of the place. When a tiny sliver of light pierced the smothering darkness around him he stopped moving and tilted his head enough that he could see out. Three guards, two on either side of the door and one directly across. The two that he could see weren't heavily armed; they wore only a long taser like instrument at their sides. The one closest to him and just out of sight would most likely be similarly armed.

* * *

At his words Rogue's smile froze on her face. On the second floor landing Bishop was joined by Pulse, whom he spared a hard glance before moving to join Rogue on the ground floor. The X-Men and the Acolytes seemed to melt into the walls, out of sight, out of mind. This was very clearly an edgy situation, Rogue and her team versus Shaw and whoever he had that wasn't in mental stasis. Shaw was outnumbered now that his dispensable security was out of the picture and Rogue made sure he knew it.

"This is a situation you cannot win."

"I don't need to win."

"Don't lie to yourself, winning is all that matters to you."

Shaw's visage of civility dissipated within seconds. "I've come for my property."

"She's not yours to take."

An eyebrow quirk betrayed Shaw's confusion. "Pardon?"

"Sage is not yours to take," Bishop clarified, no longer comfortable with letting Rogue take the lead. He stood at her side now, not entirely sure when he'd moved there or why he'd spoken. In most situations he was happy to play silent bad cop to her mocking good cop. The mention of Sage had triggered a streak of protectiveness he hadn't been aware he harbored for the woman.

Shaw exchanged a humor-filled look with Emma before crossing his arms in front of his chest smugly. "I was not referring to _Tessa_," he stressed the name he knew her by, "but now that you've brought her up-"

"Why are you here?" Rogue interrupted, quirking her own eyebrow contemptuously. Emma slowly slid farther from Shaw, making room between them in case combat was necessary. Though Rogue's eyes did not follow the blonde, the subtle twist of her fingers behind her back had Pulse mimicking the woman's movements and facing off with her.

"As I said, I'm here to reclaim my property."

Rogue's mind raced, trying to figure out this puzzle of words she and Shaw were exchanging. To her knowledge they had taken nothing from Hellfire Club that belonged to there, with the exclusion of Sage. Pulse didn't truly count as having been taken, he was neither property of Shaw nor was he taken.

In fact, he'd walked out of his own.

Rogue's mouth rounded in a small "o" and her eyes broke from Shaw's long enough to dart just to her left to Pulse.

Once a thief, always a thief.

* * *

It was a simple matter to beat the guards. They weren't expecting the attack, had relaxed against the walls to prepare for a long period of standing. When the door suddenly slammed open and Pulse flew out feet first, slamming the head of the guard opposite the door into the stone wall hard enough to crack his helmet, the other two guards didn't even think to reach for the weapons. When Pulse used his momentum to bounce off the wall and spin back in a smooth roundhouse the guard he'd clearly seen had no time to duck and received the full brunt force of the kick right to the side of his head.

His neck snapped and he was dead before he hit the floor.

The last remaining standing guard had both the time and the presence of mind to defend himself. Pulse landed smoothly on his feet, already moving forward to finish off the last of the trio. The guard parried the punches and kicks Pulse started with, evading the round house aimed for his head (having seen what it did to his colleague) and doing a smooth back flip until he was out of arm's reach of the mutant. Though bulky looking, the security uniforms around here were surprisingly flexible.

The guard drew the long club-like weapon from its holster and brandished it threateningly.

Pulse didn't know whether it was the sissy way the guard held the weapon or the oddly robotic mask the man wore but he felt the sudden irresistible urge to laugh.

The guard knew how to use that weapon however, and it was quite effective when it slammed into the side of Pulse's head.

"Ow! Why'd you do that?!" Pulse asked incredulously, bracing himself on the wall and holding his free hand to the side of his head, fully expecting to feel blood. The guard hesitated in his follow-up action, surprised by his quarry's response. He hesitated just long enough for Pulse to pull the offending weapon from his grip.

The guard jerked back a few steps, his hands up in clear surrender. Pulse grinned and slapped the guard a few times with the weapon. "How do you like it?"

Footsteps echoed down the hall, reasserting Pulse's attention where it was needed. With a small twist of revenge on his lips he knocked the guard unconscious and lightly jumped over his prone body. The hallway curved just a few dozen feet from him, thankfully away from the sound of approaching people. He ran along it until he reached several doors and began to look for the way out.

The first door led to a library, two-stories where every inch of space on the walls was covered in books. The second door was a large bath. The third door led to a museum quality collection of valuables. The fourth door-

Pulse froze in the act of continuing his search for an escape route and slid back to the third door, pushing it open with a leer of lust. There were numerous paintings, several statues of Roman descent, and an impressive collection of royal jewels from various countries.

One necklace of emeralds stood out amongst the rest.

It'd look great on Rogue's neck.

* * *

Not that Rogue even suspected that.

All she really knew was that her women's intuition was screaming that Pulse had done something whilst being held and had brought Shaw's attention to the X-mansion a lot sooner than it should have been.

Another terribly evil and fake smile plastered across her face, she turned her attention back to Shaw.

"It's terribly late, Sebastian. I'm afraid the kids need to get to bed." She kept her voice light and calm, though her heart was pounding. Between the two of them, Shaw and Emma could create a lot of damage in very little time. With his ability to take kinetic energy directed at him while deflecting any damage and to use that energy to increase his strength, he was a heavy-weight in a room of light-weights. The only abilities that worked against him were psychic, and anyone with those abilities would have their hands full with Emma.

If this became a battleground...

Bishop circled round the group, ending up perpendicular to Rogue, the two of the cornering Shaw. Emma and Pulse were unmoving, staring each other down. Pulse could tell Emma was trying to force her way into his mind, sweat trickled down her right temple where it was rigid with veins of concentration.

Only Shaw and Rogue seemed at ease, both were incredibly skilled with masking their true emotions and thoughts.

"That depends on one's perception, Rogue. It is either really late, or really early."

"The glass is either half full or half empty," Rogue smilingly replied. She could feel the restlessness of the X-Men and the Acolytes spiking in the background. They wouldn't remain quiet for long; she had to finish this quickly. "Fitzroy sends his regards. If you'd like I can have Bishop smack you around a little, give you a little extra energy to play with."

Shaw glanced at Bishop, who grinned in reply, before inquiring, "And why would you offer to do that?"

Rogue closed her eyes briefly, rifling through her mind until she found what she wanted. With a feral grin and a deviant's delight she flung her hand outwards, toward Shaw. Just bare feet behind him a portal appeared, created through Fitzroy's ability. It was a convenient drawback of the ability that if placed too close to a living person it would begin to drain the life's energy from that person. Good thing Shaw had excess energy to burn.

The gravity of the portal pulled at Shaw's security force first, pulling the motionless men into it with little opposition. Shaw planted his feet and remained intractable. Emma managed to do the same, though how she did that in three inch heels Rogue couldn't tell.

"You won't be rid of me that easily!" Shaw yelled over the roar of the threshold.

Rogue tilted her head coquettishly and waved her fingers in goodbye.

Bishop upper-cut Shaw and though Shaw did absorb the energy force of the hit, it toppled his balance just enough to send him flying into the transportation doorway behind him. Emma watched her Black King disappear and made the wise decision to follow, letting herself fall victim to the pull in a graceful jump.

Rogue let the portal lapse before anyone else got sucked into Hellfire's dungeon with them. The strain of holding it open for so long had her head aching and she reached up with trembling fingers to discover a small trickle of blood leaking from her nose. Bishop stepped close before any of the people behind them could see Rogue's weakness.

Pulse stepped close as well but stopped when Rogue turned a patented "Death Glare" on him. He grinned sheepishly and pulled the emerald necklace from one of the pockets in his pants, holding it out with a small smile. "I couldn't resist."

Bishop and Rogue simultaneously replied, "I hate thieves."

No longer content with being mere decoration, Professor Xavier wheeled himself forward until he'd gotten the trio of mutants' attention. "I'd like an explanation."

Rogue ducked her head and breathed deeply. Then she ignored her former mentor and addressed her partners. "Bishop, go check on Sage. See how far she's gotten on our little project." Bishop nodded and with one last concerned glance for his much younger partner he moved toward the stairs. The X-Men scattered until a clear path was left to him.

Rogue didn't look at Pulse as she spoke through grinding teeth. "Get out of my sight, Gus."

He nodded and made fast tracks out of the main foyer, fully intent on staying out of sight until the two X.S.E. agents had had a chance to cool down.

He was glad he'd kept the small diamond ring he'd pocketed to himself.

Rogue turned to her former enemies, friends, and family and smiled. "Hi."

Xavier and most of those present didn't smile, though Rogue took heart in the fact that Logan did smirk around his cigar. "Rogue-"

"Rogue!" A loud '_bamf'_ and the smell of sulfur preceded that joyous announcement by seconds before a wiry blue figure catapulted into the stripe-haired mutant's arms hard enough to send her flying to the floor.

Rogue looked up at the mansion's ceiling...

...and found she wasn't as unhappy to be in this position as she'd thought she would be.


	19. Nineteen Years Old

**Chapter Nineteen: Nineteen Years Old**

* * *

_Day 34_

_Bayville_

Rogue fought hard not to grin under her adopted brother's deluge but it was a losing battle. For a few seconds, she allowed herself to accept his obvious love instead of creating barriers between them as she always had. Finally, she'd had enough of the hard floor, though.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah, _meine Schwester_?"

"I can't breathe."

"Neither can I! This is so wonderful!" Kurt replied obliviously, having wrapped all five of his limbs (including his prehensile tail) around her tightly.

Rogue sighed and instantly regretted it when she couldn't get the breath back. "Get off of me."

She pushed the blue mutant off and stood quickly, brushing dust from the back of her clothing. With that done she was tempted to leave, not just the room but the entire mansion. Her old friends were staring at her a variety of emotions, from shock to amusement to suspicion. Magneto and his Acolytes stood behind the X-Men, mostly hidden in the shadows. Magneto's gaze was cold and calculating, no different from his usual look. His minions were all unreadable (with the exception of Pyro who looked as insane as he always had).

After taking in all the emotions that were sliding across their faces, Rogue turned to Xavier and smiled. "I guess now's the time for a little heart to heart." Just the right amount of snide-ness was in the comment to have everyone's back up, a reaction Rogue needed to see in order to remove her emotions from this equation.

Xavier nodded. "I think that would be a good idea."

He gestured for her to precede him and together they headed for his office just off the main hall. Almost everyone moved to go with them; Xavier turned and with a quelling gaze stopped them in their tracks. "Magneto, if you would join us?"

It was a concession to their partnership, and partly one made because he wanted to demonstrate that it didn't have to end now. The large silver-haired man walked through a suddenly parted group to join Xavier. The trio went into the office, the door shutting right behind them, but was joined by Rogue's defiant brother within seconds. He took a seat in front of the desk and showed no sign of being willing to leave. Rogue shrugged and joined him there.

Xavier took his time rounding the large antique desk, situating himself just so as he tried to collect his thoughts. He let the silence linger as he moved a few papers on his desk, putting several away and moving most out of his way. He folded his hands on top of the desk, and stared at Rogue. Magneto, of course, was familiar with Xavier's intimidation techniques.

"How are you, Rogue?"

Of all the questions she'd thought to hear that hadn't been one of the first ones she'd expected. She supposed she'd forgotten a few of the details of these people, Xavier's caring nature among them. In future texts though Xavier's theories and ambitions would prove to be ahead of his time, his true personality and life became obscure and conflicted. Some described him as a zealot, yet others as a philosopher. In the future his ideas would shape the mutant generations for years to come, and that was what was important.

"I'm fine."

"Good. Would you like to tell me what's happened?"

"How far back would you like me to go?"

Xavier thought for a moment. "Let's start with Mesmero, a month ago."

"Ahh, see," she started, "that was a year ago to me."

"A year?"

"It's called time travel, Professor. You should try it sometime."

* * *

As soon as Xavier and his guests were out of sight, conversations and exclamations burst out of the tightly wound group like flash-fire. The new mutants thought the new Rogue was "hot". The X-Men thought Rogue was "changed" and "dangerous". The Acolytes had no opinion and quickly moved to leave the scene.

Piotr was leading Kitty down the corridor to the kitchen; her hands were shaking from a combination of exhilaration and nerves. He was murmuring comfort to her, something about tea and a walk outside when Gambit caught up and started to walk with them. "Alright dere,_ petit_ _chat_?"

Kitty nodded but didn't speak; she was holding onto Piotr's hand very tightly. She desperately wanted to be alone with Rogue, wanted to speak to her best friend. She had so many things to say, so many things that needed her friend's advice. She realized belatedly that in truth she just _needed _Rogue.

"You curious about what de Rogue is saying?"

Kitty hesitated, then nodded slowly. Her large blue eyes looked over at Gambit in curiosity, unsure where this conversation was going. Piotr, on the hand, was used to Gambit's tactics and had a pretty good idea of what his teammate wanted. He wasn't sure whether to stop the Cajun or assist him.

"What you say, _petit chat_, that we go have a little listen?"

Kitty stopped abruptly and had both men jerking to a stop several feet in front of her. "You want to spy on the Professor and Rogue?"

Gambit's face went blank as he nodded.

Kitty grinned broadly. "Well why didn't you just say so? We're going in the wrong direction!"

She bounded off down the corridor, veering at the last minute to avoid the still crowded main foyer. Piotr and Gambit followed with haste, but without the strange jumping-walk. They were luckily not seen by the now dispersing mutants and moved into a large U-shaped hallway the moved along the back of the mansion, eventually ending back in the foyer, but going past Xavier's office first.

When Gambit and Piotr finally caught up with Kitty she had her ear placed against the wall and was listening intently.

"Um,_ chat_? This wasn't what Gambit meant when he said we take a little listen."

"I know that," she whispered back as she pulled away from the wall. "Don't panic." She grasped their hands and pulled them into a small closet on the other side of the wall. As quietly as possible Kitty pushed several jackets hanging on hangers down a long metal rod. She pulled Piotr and Gambit further in, and stopped phasing. Now they'd have to be really quiet or they'd be heard.

She tried to ignore the way Piotr's taller and harder body pressed against hers and struggled to hear the words being spoken on the other side of the wooden door.

* * *

"As I'm sure you know, one month ago my mind was taken over by the mutant Mesmero. While under his control I imprinted all of the X-Men, the Brotherhood, and the Acolytes. After that, he intended that I imprint several of the more notably powerful mutants in the United States before heading for the Apocalypse's third gate. To do that I had to remain under the radar. When Magneto discovered what was going on and appeared at graduation, the plans had to change. He decided to forgo imprinting anymore mutants and to head directly to the gate."

Xavier nodded slowly, his eyes closed as he visualized the events her words were describing. He found the lack of a Southern accent in her voice oddly disturbing but repressed any reaction he might have had to the sensation. "And then?"

"Instead of taking a commercial plane, he and Mystique decided to take a military one." Rogue's eyes flashed yellow as she tapped into Mystique's psyche-orb. Her voice became cooler and deeper, mimicking her adoptive mother's voice perfectly. "They're faster, better built, and better able to deal with any 'trouble' we might run into." Rogue let the power slip way and her eyes became their own green-grey. "When we arrived at the military base there was some opposition, easily dealt with."

Xavier opened his eyes and steepled his hands before his face. "And Miss Danvers?"

Rogue's breath caught in her throat at the familiar name and she felt an odd stirring in the back of her mind. She ignored both and struggled to speak over the knot in her throat. "The sole mutant on the base, she proved to be a greater threat."

In her mind she saw memories of the battle start to replay, from not one but two points of view.

* * *

_Day 1_

_Fort Carlton_

She moved along the corridor quickly and smoothly, her body moving though her mind didn't. She gave off no thought waves, no emotions, because her brain wasn't under her command. Less than ten feet behind her that honor went to the tattooed man wearing the strange robes. The way he walked seemed almost awkward compared to the fluid strides of the two women with him.

There was no opposition as they moved along the halls and through every doorway unconscious forms were sprawled over various surfaces. Under Mesmero's direction Rogue had used a telepathic probe to incapacitate all the base's inhabitants. He had every confidence that Rogue's awe-inspiring abilities had done their job, and, indeed, would be of great use in the coming days. For her participation in the release of Apocalypse she would be honored amongst mutants in the new era to come.

A faint stirring on the edge of Mesmero's senses had him using his control over Rogue to stop her just feet away from the outer door. "Someone waits for us outside."

"Rogue can take care of him," Mystique replied with confidence, ignoring the small twinge of guilt she felt. She was doing this for her children's safety, however, and a mother's zealotry allowed a lot of self-forgiveness.

Mesmero ground his teeth and turned to the blue mutant with a glare. "I knew we should have gone to the commercial airport."

"I told you before, this will be better. With the X-Men on our back, we only have a few hours to get as far away as we can."

Mesmero sighed heavily and rubbed his aching head. Sustaining his hold over Rogue for days on end was proving to be taxing on his abilities. He could only thank Apocalypse that this was all almost over. He would be rewarded greatly for his loyalty very soon.

He sent a mental directive to Rogue and she pushed open the doors with no hesitation. A small frail-looking fist slammed into the teenage girl's chin and sent her crashing backwards, through the concrete-laced wall and past it. A woman stood where Rogue had been standing, an alarming amount of skin bared by the black and yellow leotard she wore. She had long flowing blonde hair but wore a partial mask to cover her face.

Mystique moved to engage the woman, clearly a mutant, but Mesmero stopped her by putting his hand on her shoulder. She didn't know it but she was as important as Rogue was. "Let Rogue take care of it."

Rogue, having used Logan's healing ability to repair the several broken vertebrates in her back, slid out of the hole she'd made in the wall and slipped into Magma's ability with ease. Her body became lava-hot and she threw the energy she'd formed at her attacker, singing the woman's body. However, no damage had been inflicted.

Mystique made a small noise and spoke softly. "Invulnerability. That'd be a useful ability for Rogue." When the strange woman suddenly took to the air, a large grin crossed Mystique's face. "And flight? Dual-abilities are rare amongst mutants."

Mesmero fought to keep his sneer off his face. "This fight needs to end quickly."

"Tell Rogue to touch her."

He didn't like taking orders, but the idea was a good one. The more abilities Rogue had the more powerful Apocalypse would be when he rose. He sent the instruction down the mental hold he had on Rogue.

The woman came swooping back down from the air and hit Rogue full-speed slamming her through several walls before coming to rest near the center of the building. As soon as Rogue's limbs were free of the aggressor she called up the Blob's super-strength and attacked. An upper-cut sent the blonde slamming through the opposite wall, a nice new hole to match the one a few feet away. Rogue followed through with super-speed and picked the woman up by her hair, spinning and tossing her like she weighed nothing. She hit a steel pylon and left a deep dent that bent it almost 45 degrees.

Mystique and Mesmero watched from twenty feet down the corridor, the various openings left in the walls making it easy for them to follow the action.

Rogue attempt a round house to the blonde's neck, a quick and easy death but the blonde caught her foot and tossed her away easily, sending her careening through three walls.

Mystique noted with a dry humor, "Flight, invulnerability, and strength. I don't think I've heard of a mutant with three abilities."

Mesmero lifted one of his eyebrows in concurrence. "The U.S. military always has the best recruits."

"Indeed."

Rogue lay still on the ground, her face hidden by her hair. The blonde approached slowly, wary of a trap. When she was a few feet away Rogue moved with super-speed and wrapped her bare hands around the blonde's arm, skin to skin.

Almost immediately both women began to scream. Mesmero's control over Rogue snapped and his hands flew to his temples at the sudden pain.

The two women began to hover just inches above the floor, the veins all over their bodies popping out in acute relief as their hearts raced and their blood pressure skyrocketed. Rogue's eyes flew opened and began to change color, from green-gray to sky blue, and back again. Her hair grew longer and became blondethen faded back to its natural dark color.

Her voice became higher and huskier in its scream, then seemed to become a combination of two voices as the woman she was latched onto suddenly stopped screaming.

As quickly as the strange event had begun, it ended.

Both women fell to the floor, Rogue with a soft gasp, the woman with no sound or movement at all. Rogue turned onto her back, her hands cradling her head as it slowly swayed from side to side. She mumbled under her breath, so softly as to be barely heard.

Mystique moved closer, her eyes and concern only for her daughter.

She could barely hear what Rogue was saying.

"What have you done? What have you done?!"

* * *

Rogue stared at Xavier over his desk and knew that the pain those memories caused her was clear in her eyes. She focused on that pain and shoved it down until her face was calm and clear again. "I imprinted Carol Danvers and as a result her body ceased to function."

"A nice way of explaining murder," Magneto noted quietly. However cruel his words might be, it had no affect on Rogue. Nightcrawler, on the other hand...

A flow of German curses burst from his mouth as he prepared to spring at the older and much more powerful mutant. Rogue wrapped one gloved hand around his arm and kept him from making that mistake.

She waited until he'd sat back down to speak again. "It would be murder," she started, "Erik," she stressed his name, making it very clear that despite his words she knew all his secrets and some of them were just as bad as her own, "except Carol isn't dead."

Xavier glared at Magneto over his shoulder, before turning to Rogue again. "Please explain."

"Carol isn't dead because I am Carol." Rogue put out her hand in a gesture for silence before any of them could say anything else. "I'll explain in a moment. Back to the story for now, after I imprinted Miss Danvers, I..." Rogue swallowed and closed her eyes, the words difficult to say, "I lost control. I had many powers at my unconscious control and without realizing it I tapped into a number of them. I transported myself as far away from that place as I could."

"Just how far?" Nightcrawler asked, reaching over and taking her hand in his three-fingered own. He sat closely, waves of comfort and sympathy pouring of off him.

"Exactly 100 years and 36 days into the future. I believe the date was April 18, 2107. I, however, didn't wake to that future until 31 days later, on May 19, 2107."

"That is a long time from now," Xavier murmured, his mind boggling. He was a genius of record levels but just the idea of the process necessary for this kind of undergoing made his head hurt.

"Yes, it is. I was incapacitated for another three weeks while the psyches took control of my mind. Eventually with the help of several telepaths I was able to develop a way of dealing with them and took control of them finally."

"I'd be interested in just how you managed that, Rogue," Xavier stated, curious since any attempt he'd made to help his student form control had always failed.

"I'd like to discuss it with you, Professor, but we don't have time right now. I was sent back in time, to this time, by my superiors-"

"Your superiors?" Nightcrawler interrupted.

"I've joined the X.S.E. in the future. It's like a mutant police force. They detected temporal anomalies starting here and spreading very quickly through the timeline. They thought at first that I was responsible, but echoes revealed that it was Bishop's former partner who was causing them." She continued speaking even though it was clear that the trio around her wanted to ask questions. "He's brought back a very lethal, very contagious virus from the future. He's sold it to three different people and if it somehow enters the populace then we're looking at 90 population death within five years."

"What kind of virus?" Xavier asked gravely, thinking of his colleague Dr. McCoy working several levels below.

"A virus designed to attack mutants. In a fit of irony, it mutated and attacked baseline humans as well. In the future, they find a cure within a year with only a few dozen million deaths. In this time, all probability indicates you have neither the technological or medical advances to find a cure that quickly." She stood and started to pace as again the thoughts and processes and the things she'd Seen began to spin around in her head. "Fitzroy stole the virus after I appeared in the future. He and Bishop were sent to investigate my arrival. I...invaded his mind and it scared him so he ran. He came back to this time using his mutant ability and somehow ended up at the Hellfire Club."

That thought struck a chord within Rogue and she suddenly stopped pacing. How had Fitzroy ended up at the Hellfire Club? During all their planning and recovery, why had none of them given thought to how Fitzroy had ended up at the Hellfire Club?

"Rogue?" The tone in Xavier's voice made it clear it wasn't the first time he'd called her name. Rogue mentally shook off the path her thoughts had taken and turned back to them.

"He sold samples of the virus to three different people. Sebastian Shaw, whom you just met, of the Hellfire Club, Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D., who then gave you the virus, Professor, and an unknown player named Nathaniel Essex. I'm here for the sample you have, Xavier."

Xavier had figured as much as soon as she started to talk about the virus. "The sample Fury procured and gave to us is safe for now. It might be best if you get some rest. You seem tired, Rogue."

Rogue knew an evasion tactic when she heard it. Xavier wasn't going to give the virus to her willingly until he was convinced that the things she said were true.

That was okay. She didn't need his cooperation.

"Sounds good, Professor. I think I'll go to-" she stopped mid-sentence.

Xavier finished. "Your room? It hasn't been touched since you left."

It was one of the last places she wanted to go, but it would do for now.

* * *

Gambit heard every word through the small crack in the door and was thankful for the darkness. Kitty and Piotr could not see the shock on his face.

Nathaniel Essex; better known as Dr. Sinister, his former employer and the man who'd given Gambit control over his own volatile mutant abilities.

Also the one person on this Earth that Gambit was truly afraid of.


	20. Twenty Flight Rock

**Chapter 20: Twenty Flight Rock

* * *

**

_Day 34_

_Bayville_

"So."

"So?"

"Come on!"

"Come on, what?"

"Give me all the details!"

"The details of what?"

"Of the future! Of what's going on! Of why you're suddenly all femme fatale and some good looking blond is stealing necklaces, and you've all got matching facial tattoos-"

"Shut up, Kitty," Rogue said softly as she opened the door to her room and found herself surrounded by her past, literally. More than being in this building, more than being surrounded by the people, this room represented home.

Rogue moved into the dark room slowly, her hand automatically reaching and flipping the light switch just inside the door. Soft light filtered around a glass dome and revealed the room's furniture and decorations. Posters of metal bands and jazz singers mixed on the walls, candles on almost every flat surface, and the lingering scent of almonds marked the space as hers.

She shook her head as she studied this expression of her youth, shocked at what she'd found. "I never realized..."

"Never realized what?" Kitty's high-pitched and sharp voice cut through Rogue's thoughts easily.

"I was so conflicted," Rogue explained as she gestured toward her surroundings. "I wanted to be here, I wanted to be away. I wanted to hide, I wanted to run, I wanted to be seen. I couldn't decide. I could never decide."

Her words were said quietly, Kitty almost couldn't hear her. Rogue's voice as this new person was confident and cool, but for those few seconds Kitty could hear her old friend in that voice. The small chord of vulnerability that laced through her words, that was Kitty's friend.

In the end, Kitty couldn't really think of anything to say. She placed herself at Rogue's side, however, and held her hand as Rogue continued to mull over her own thoughts.

She didn't look like the Rogue that Kitty had grown to love like a sister, but somewhere under that tough exterior her friend still lurked. It was that small vestige of her friend left in there that the Professor was hoping to use to his advantage.

"Why does he insist on me staying in this room?" Rogue asked in a suddenly strong voice, her thoughts convalescing and leaving her nostalgia in the dust.

Bishop spoke from the doorway. "He hopes to remind you of your ties to this place and most likely distract you until he can collect his thoughts."

"Or maybe it's because this is _your_ room," Kitty supplied with a grin as she moved further into the room, fingering the pictures that stood on Rogue's desk. There was one of the entire team, all clustered on the foyer's steps in their uniforms. They'd just gotten out of a training session and all of them were covered in sweat, but they'd beaten the illusionary enemies so there were grins on their faces. Storm had captured the moment on camera and gone to the trouble of making sure everyone had a copy and a frame to put it into.

Kitty and Rogue had only been roommates for a little over a month at the time the picture was taken. Still, they stood beside each other, their covered arms brushing as they both smiled into the camera.

"I'm more partial to Bishop's explanation," Rogue replied as she sat on the edge of her bed, fingering the cotton burgundy coverlet that she'd bought her first week in the mansion.

"Get lost, Bishop," Kitty said cheerily as she moved to shut the door. The older man grinned and held out his hands in surrender, shooting Rogue a look that said without words that he'd be back later.

Kitty flounced to Rogue's bed and threw herself on it beside her. "So?"

"Sooooo?"

"Tell me everything!" Kitty demanded with wide eager eyes.

"Do I have to?"

"As your best friend it is my right to demand-"

"Alright!" Rogue interrupted, falling back into old patterns without realizing it. "If you'll shut up long enough, I'll tell you."

Kitty waited patiently and silently.

"It started with Mystique and Mesmero..."

* * *

_New York City, New York _

_Day 36599_

His voice was weary and he wasn't even bothering to write down notes about their interviews anymore. He'd been doing this routine everyday for a month, and the cop in him was anxious to get back to doing more productive work.

Bishop sat beside her bed and waited for her to wake. He'd already spoken to his superiors and knew if she showed no sign of "settling down" mentally in the next few days, she'd be reassigned to the Mental Health Ward of the X.S.E. and they'd take over her care.

Her eyelids fluttered for several seconds before opening to reveal surprisingly alert green-grey eyes. Bishop may have been imagining it but she looked saner this morning than usual. Her eyes weren't glazed over and she didn't seem as distracted by her inner thoughts.

"Ma'am? Do you remember me? It's Officer Bishop."

"My name is Rogue," she replied, her voice stronger than it had been in the weeks he'd been coming here. "My name is Carol," she added in a softer voice. Then, almost as if speaking to herself, she began to repeat, "Rogue, Carol, Rogue, Carol."

Bishop sighed and resolved himself to signing her custody over to the hospital. "I'll get the doctor."

"No, get a telepath," Rogue suddenly stated, turning her eyes to the stranger beside her bed. "I need a telepath."

"We've had telepaths here. They were unable to connect with your mind. You're very protected."

Rogue's eyes widened in surprise. "Of course. My military training had a specialized course in protecting my thoughts-" Suddenly she stopped speaking, shaking her head as if to dispel a fog. "Just get the damn telepath. Ah'll let them in." Her voice was switching between a Midwestern accent and a Southern one, and seemingly of its own accord.

Bishop shrugged but moved to the door to call for the doctor. When the younger man, fresh from school, reached the doorframe Bishop stopped him from entering. "Get me a psychic." The doctor became indignant at being treated like a gopher, so Bishop added a terse, "Now!"

When he returned to Rogue's bedside she had closed her eyes again. Even though she couldn't see him, she spoke as if she knew he was there. "Where am Ah?"

"New York City. We found you on a rooftop of the one of the skyscrapers. You appeared to have teleported yourself there."

"I can't teleport," Rogue replied matter-of-factly as she opened her eyes and struggled to sit up. Bishop reached over to help, grasping her arms and holding her still as she slid into sitting position. It was the strangest thing; her eyes looked blue now.

"I saw you teleport," he replied as he pulled his notebook from a pocket. It seemed today's interview would not go as all the rest.

"It's not one of mah abilities though."

"What are you abilities, then?"

Rogue's eyes seemed both skeptical and wary of Bishop as she contemplated his question. "I'm a mutant. I have special abilities."

Bishop grinned at the seeming nervousness with which she said the words. He tapped the large "M" tattooed on his face. "Join the club, lady. Though I am curious as to how you managed to escape branding. You're old enough that you should've been in one of the camps."

"Camps?"

He sighed and hoped she wasn't an idiot. "The containment camps? During the war?"

"War?" Rogue asked, shutting her eyes at the sudden pain she felt in her temples. "Which war?"

"The one between mutants and baselines?"

Rogue's eyes snapped opened and unconsciously she reached for his hand. "There was a war!? Are my friends alright? Kitty? Kurt? Are they hurt?"

"I don't know who you're talking about. Give me their full names and I'll see what I can find out," Bishop offered, though something about this entire conversation seemed off to him. It almost felt like they were talking about two completely different things. "I need some personal information. I'll need to contact your guardians, see about your medical history, things like that."

Rogue nodded but her thoughts remained elsewhere. "What do you need to know?"

"What are your mutant abilities?"

"Umm..." she sucked in a deep breath and took her time releasing it. "When I touch my bare skin to someone else's I copy their genetic structure onto my own."

Bishop was not a doctor and had no idea what that meant. "Explain."

Rogue smiled to herself as she did. "I know what they know and do what they do. With regular people, it means if they have a skill for singing, I can sing as well as they can. If they know the password, I know the password. With mutants, it means for a short time I have their mutant ability, and the know-how to use it."

Bishop noted that her voice and eyes had changed again, her voice back to the bland "non-accent" and her eyes back to grey-green. "So, you're like a mimic, but you need touch to do it?"

"A mimic?"

"It's a category of mutant."

"I guess that's as good a label as any," Rogue replied. She fidgeted under her covers, moving her legs around restlessly. "Can I get out of bed?" She asked in a sudden change of topic.

"No," Bishop replied quickly, glaring at her for distracting him. "What's your birthdate?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"It was never important. My adoptive parents never told me."

"Do you know what year you were born? Or how old you are?"

"Ah was born in 1990. Ah'm seventeen," and pride of that fact was clear in her voice.

Bishop shut his book slowly, turning dark unreadable eyes onto the girl before him. "If you're going to lie, I can't help you."

Rogue's eyebrows lowered in alarm. "What do you mean 'lie'? Ah'm not lying."

"If you were born in 1990, then you're well over a hundred and look damn good for your age," scorn dripped from every word. Bishop could not stand liars, had never been able to stand liars.

"What are you talking about?" Rogue asked urgently, her voice rising as she struggled to understand what was going on.

"The year's date is 2107, which makes you 117. Now," Bishop smiled genially (and falsely), "when you're tired of playing games, the nurses' station has my number."

He was only a few feet from the door when a small woman with bright red hair grabbed his arm. "I believe she was telling the truth."

Normally, it's not a good idea to put your hands unexpectedly on or near a mutant. Luckily for the woman, not only was she herself also a mutant, but she also knew Bishop very well. "You're the spook they sent down?" Bishop asked, slightly surprised. She was one of the most powerful psychics on the planet. Usually she had more important things to do than play around with head-cases in hospitals.

"I heard about the case and I became intrigued," she explained, "sooo, Dr. Jean Summers at your service."

Bishop grinned and enveloped the much younger woman in a hug. "You just missed me."

"Of course! You're always the main reason I come to this crime-ridden town!" Jean pushed a strand of almost too-red hair behind her ear and peered around Bishop into the room. "I think she's telling the truth."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I think I recognize her," Jean said conspiratorially, pulling Bishop towards the private rooms, looking for an empty one to talk in.

"What do you mean?" He asked as soon as they were alone.

"Well, you remember that my great-grandparents were the original X-Men, right? Before they became as famous as they got, there was a member of the school who disappeared, a girl who called herself Rogue, who had a very distinctive streak of white in her hair. When I heard the techs up in the Ward talking about this girl and about her case, I got curious. So I took a look at her file and some of the footage you took of her." Jean shook her head slightly, her hand tightening where it clasped Bishop's. "When I saw her, something clicked in my head."

Bishop nodded slowly but cautiously. "I remember your Dad always spent a lot of time telling us the old stories, the ones he'd heard from his grandfather."

"The original Cyclops, my great-granddaddy," Jean added with a gleam in her eyes. "I used to love listening to Dad tell me those stories. Their adventures, their failures, the pranks, everything," her eyes were sad now and glistening with tears. Unlike herself and Bishop, her father had not survived the camps. "Every instinct I have is telling me that that is the Rogue from the stories. She's the one who disappeared and was never found. Her disappearance inspired the team to be more serious, to dedicate their lives to the cause."

Bishop thought back to all the stories, the ones he'd learned from her father, just as she had. "There is one way we can be sure. Someone who'd have seen her then, who would know without a doubt if she is who she says she is."

Jean nodded, her tears evaporating as she focused what needed to be done. "I'll call Uncle Logan when I get home."

* * *

"Wow."

"Just wow?"

"Yeah, 'wow'. That's just...alot of stuff to happen to you."

Rogue shrugged. "It was just a month for you. For me, it was a year."

"A year of going from one extreme to another. No wonder you seem so..."

"So what?" Rogue asked as she restlessly paced the length of her room. It'd felt almost therapeutical to tell Kitty everything that had happened to her, though she had garnered a promise that it wouldn't go any further than the limits of this room.

"You seem so grown up," Kitty answered morosely, her eyes following her friend's movements. "Like you don't need anything or anyone."

Rogue glanced over at Kitty but looked away immediately. "I've worked on it so that I don't. I don't want to depend on others to protect me, on other people's powers to fight. I'm tired of being just a mix of everyone else's strengths. I was tired of being only my weakness."

"It wasn't like that, Rogue-"

"It was exactly like that," Rogue snapped back, interrupting whatever comforting spiel Kitty was about to unwind. "Besides, I'm clearly the better for it. I'm happy with the way I am." Who was she trying to convince, Kitty or herself?

Kitty changed the subject. "You never explained what happened with Carol. You told the Professor you would, but then you never did."

Rogue moved to the mirror and stared at her reflection. No one knew that half the time she expected a taller, more beautiful blonde to be looking back at her. "Carol isn't dead, at least not all of her. Her body died that day, but her mind is with me and will be with me always. In the same way," Rogue turned to stare at Kitty from across the room, her eyes gleaming in the dim light, "you'll never die. A piece of you will live on in me always. If I so chose, I could talk like you, walk like you, look like you, and use your mutant ability. I could replace any of you at any time and no one would be the wiser."

Kitty swallowed audibly and fought the shiver that chilled her body.

Rogue smiled bitterly. "Yeah, creepy, isn't it? If you want to leave now, I'd understand."

"I don't-"

"Don't lie, Kitty," Rogue interrupted as she turned back to the mirror, watching in its reflection the conflicting emotions on Kitty's face. "Just go."

It was a testament to how much distance now lay between them that Kitty actually did leave.

* * *

_Day 32_

Rogue always wanted to be in control.

Maybe it was a residual personality quirk from her years spent being victim to her body's whims, but since she'd gained control over her abilities she'd developed a definite bossy streak.

"You don't trust us, I know. You have no reason to. We kidnapped you and Fitzroy from the clutches of one the most powerful organizations on the planet, and that alone makes us very dangerous." Rogue spoke softly, idly swinging her legs back and forth as she balanced on the railing just outside of the motel room. Sage watched her through hooded eyes, not replying. "I can't make you believe what we're saying about why we're here, or about the virus. You know the virus exists, but you don't know whether it is what we say it is. I can only think of one way for you to be sure."

"And how is that?" Sage asked coolly, her question belying the cool composure of her body.

"My mouth and my body can lie, but my mind cannot. I'm giving you an opportunity many a person in this time and in the future would kill to have. I will open my mind and let you see anything you want to see." Rogue paused and waited until Sage met her gaze before continuing. "I shall do that on one condition."

"What condition?"

"If we're telling the truth, you agree to assist us. There are some things that need to be done that I can't help with. We need more people, more people who know how to keep a secret and who can take care of themselves. People who can make the hard decisions."

"And you think I'm one of those people."

Rogue smiled. "I know you're one of those people."

"So, if we did do this, when do I get that look into your head?"

"Do you have to sound so eager?"

"You've displayed more power in one day than I've seen in a year at the Hellfire Club. I am eager."

Rogue scowled and glared at Sage. "Don't be. My mind is a hundred times more dangerous than I am."

"How so?"

"I have control in my conscious mind; there are no pitfalls or hidden dangers. If you choose to see the truth, it is not only the truth of the situation you'll find. You'll also find the truth of me."

"The truth of you?"

"Of what I am. Of who I am. A long time ago Professor Xavier entered my mind to try and help me clear out some of the psyches that were taking control. He thought I couldn't hear his own thoughts while he was there, but I heard. Through the cacophony of screaming psyches, I heard him. He found my mind terrifying, a dark and tangled web built by the darkest aspects of every person I ever imprinted. He thought I couldn't feel his fear, but I did." Rogue swallowed back the memories and stared unseeingly into the wall as she continued to speak. "That was when my mutancy had been active less than a year. He cleared out the dark and left me hollowed and empty. Sometimes I think he went deeper than he'd intended and took some of my own darkness as well. I was never sure whether if he had if it was a bad thing or not."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Since that little spring cleaning, I've had over a year to let the dark seep in. I won't explore that deeply into my own mind; I don't want to know what I'd find there. If you choose to enter my mind, you have to be careful." Rogue suddenly leaned forward and smirked devilishly. "Lord knows, I don't need another voice in there."

Sage breathed in and out slowly, unwilling to admit that this small girl's words had struck a chord of doubt in her. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"I'll do it."

* * *

Rogue was startled from her thoughts by the soft tapping on her balcony doors. The only people she could think that would come to those doors at this time of night were Kurt or Pulse, but she knew instantly that it was neither of them. Pulse was too smart to come near her at the moment, and Kurt had disappeared in a flash of brimstone just after Xavier had dismissed them. He'd hugged Rogue again, tightly, then mumbled something about a witch before teleporting away.

She opened the doors slowly, letting the wind send her floor-length curtains dancing behind her. She kept her features impassive as she stared at the grinning buffoon on the other side.

"Evening, _chere_."

"What are you doing on my balcony, swamp rat?"

"T'ought you and Gambit should have a conversation."

"I'm not interested in your conversation," Rogue replied smoothly, ignoring the small tightening in her chest as she stared at the man mere inches away.

Gambit stepped closer, his cologne sliding its way across her senses and making her knees feel just a bit weak. "Well, if Rogue doesn't want to talk, Gambit can t'ink of other t'ings to do..."

Rogue stared at up into Gambit's face; he was taller than she was by a good few inches, making him one of the tallest people in the mansion. She wanted to ignore the way he affected her, to ignore the few memories she had of interacting with him all those months (well, here and now it was only days) ago.

She wanted to forget the girlish impulses that fired in her mind reminding her of all the times she'd twirled a playing card in her hand and remembered his face.

When she was in the future, she could forget him. She could forget everything. She could feel like a new person making herself a new fate.

She had such a weakness for the bad boys, though.

Thieves, in particular.


	21. Answer To Twenty One Years

**Chapter 21: Answer To Twenty One Years

* * *

**_Bayville, New York_

Rogue watched as Gambit prowled her room, clearly already familiar with its dimensions as he moved easily through the clutter. His nimble fingers picked through her dresser top, ignoring the knick knacks and perfume bottles until he reached her jewelry box.

Even as he picked it up and turned to her with an "Aha!" look on his face Rogue remembered what he'd find there.

A year ago she might have blushed under her thickly painted make-up and tried to stop him from retrieving the item inside.

Gambit plucked out a playing card and held it out to her, and Rogue was unable to resist taking it, just as she had been unable to resist when he'd first given it to her.

"You kept it, _cher_."

"And?" Her voice was nonchalant and she eyed the card with coolness before handing it back to him. "What of it?"

"Gambit just finds it interesting, dat's all," he grinned charmingly though it seemed to have no affect on Rogue.

Rogue grinned at him and sat on the edge of her bed, crossing her arms and legs slowly as she studied the slightly older mutant's face. "Come now, Gambit, I feel we know each other better than that. You've been through my room, and I've been through your mind. How about we be a little more personal about this...Remy?"

Gambit's smile didn't lose any of its brightness at Rogue's use of his real name and instead seemed to grow more suggestive. "Just how deep you been in my mind, Rogue?"

"Deep enough."

"Then you know why Remy is here, _oui_?"

Rogue shrugged. "Not really."

Gambit set the card down on the dresser and turned to look in the mirror, watching Rogue as he did so. He practically purred as he replied. "Then Rogue-y didn't go deep enough."

Rogue's eyes hardened and you could hear her teeth grinding from across the room. "Then why don't you illuminate the matter for me?" Her voice was hard as she suddenly stood, moving to stand next to him.

Gambit turned and looked her straight in the eyes, black and red on white and green and Rogue realized with an inner jolt that they were almost the same height. The inches between them suddenly seemed too short and she could almost feel his thoughts ticking in the same direction hers were.

He licked his lips, his eyes sharpening as she did the same.

Rogue took a step back and the moment was broken.

Remy grinned before speaking. "The man you're looking for, Nathaniel Essex, goes by the name Sinister. I can take you to him."

"What's in it for you?"

Gambit's good humor vanished in a second and his eyes seemed like stone as he stared at her. "That's my business, and no one else's."

Rogue cocked her head and replied coldly. "If you're planning on taking my team somewhere, then it is my business."

"Gambit is not taking your team. Gambit is taking _you_."

Rogue swallowed the sudden weight in the back of her throat and turned to move to the door. "You take my team, or you take no one."

Gambit shrugged and followed her, waiting until she'd opened the door to walk through. He paused just outside. "Remy like it better when you threaten him with a Southern accent, _cher_. Reminds him of home."

Her door slamming echoed down the hall, almost but not quite hiding the sound of his quiet snickering.

* * *

_Day 35_

"Why are we doing this?"

"Several reasons that cannot be explained at the moment."

"Why can't they be explained?"

"Because we have eavesdroppers."

The foursome glanced upwards, their eyes alighting on the observation booth in the ceiling before looking at each other.

Rogue stretched, bending forward and reaching for her feet before moving seamlessly into a back flip, stopping mid-bend to work the kinks out of her spine. She continued to speak from that position and both Pulse beside her and Gambit in the observation booth took great pleasure in watching her do so. "Since we've added Sage to the team we need to work on how we move together."

Sage nodded in agreement as she smoothed her hands down her new outfit. It certainly wasn't the thong and corset kind of uniform the Hellfire Club preferred, but it was of close relation. Her outfit might have been respectable, it certainly covered more than enough skin, had it not been a) skintight and b) leather.

The only thing left bare by the outfit were her hands and one of her shoulders, and the contrast between the darkness of the material and the paleness of her skin had Bishop more than a little fascinated.

This was precisely why he faced away from her as he prepared his weapons for the simulation.

Pulse, on the other hand, stood there watching the other three prepare. He was wearing slacks and a button-up shirt (only half-buttoned). Most of the younger X-girls were agreeing that he was very attractive, whereas Rogue was thinking that he was a pain in her ass.

"Also," Pulse added with a grin, uncaring that the X-Men and Acolytes listened to every word they said, "Rogue is hoping to intimidate them a little. Show them what she's capable of doing now. A little show and tell to sever the emotional ties."

Rogue smoothly finished her flip, and immediately cocked her hip as she studied Pulse. His words struck a little close to home. "Shut up, Gus."

Her eyes connected with Bishop's and the information that only the two of them knew passed between them silently.

This was also a means to distract the X-Men.

Pulse grinned and responded sarcastically, "That's Augustus to you, dearie."

Rogue glared at him but turned away from the opportunity to verbally spar with him. "Bishop, are you ready?"

Bishop drew his gun, sighting down it at Pulse. "Oh, yeah."

"Sage?"

"Yes," she replied to the unspoken question as she removed a pair of sunglasses from a hidden pocket and slipped them on. They were not ordinary glasses, however, but within the lenses were a hidden monitor directly connected to her mind. That allowed her to view data streaming from her subconscious. With them she could analyze and decide the best actions to take in any combat situation.

Rogue tilted her head and cracked her neck, continuing the movement down her body until she'd released all the tension from her body. Casting green-grey eyes upward Rogue used her version of telekinesis to begin pressing buttons on the controls above.

Xavier and the X-Men instinctively took a step back from the display, not shocked so much as surprised at the display of power. Xavier was mostly intrigued by the fine tactile control she had over the ability. In the past Rogue's use of others' abilities had often been without the specialized control over them. She had the knowledge to control them, but she was much like a battering ram with them.

That could also have been a trait of her personality, however. Rogue had never been one for the details, but would rather rush into battle. It was one of the things Xavier had always worked on with her. She had little patience; she'd always wanted results immediately.

He had a feeling that that hadn't changed for her.

Rogue opened her eyes as she finally located the simulation she wanted to use and watched as the Danger Room shaped the room around them into a dangerous obstacle course that doubled as a maze. "The objective today is..." Rogue grinned at Pulse. "...take down Pulse."

The man, looking so fragile standing next to the leather-clad warriors, only smiled back. "Ohhh, bring it on, little girl."

Bishop tapped the watch he wore on his arm. "You have thirty seconds for a head-start. I suggest you run."

Pulse clearly agreed because he took off running immediately. He disappeared into the maze of the room and Rogue took a second to admire the speed and agility he possessed. Though he wasn't dressed for combat, he rarely was, he had the skills to make this an interesting and difficult battle. She didn't need to declare this a "No powers" battle, because he could turn them off at any time he chose. As a thief, he had strength and flexibility encoded into every muscle on his body.

Twenty seconds after Pulse had taken off running, Rogue gestured to Bishop to follow. "He's had long enough," she explained as she started to hover just above the ground, power strumming through her body and filling her with energy.

"That's not entirely fair," Sage murmured as her hands moved through the air, her mind and thoughts elsewhere as she began to run several programs/thoughts through her mind.

Rogue quirked an eyebrow down at the woman and started to rise higher. "The world isn't fair, Sage."

Xavier heard the worlds and wondered at the bitterness behind them. Rogue had always been bitter, but the level of harshness in that one sentence was astronomical. At his sides Storm and Wolverine exchanged a glance, their thoughts on the same path. Rogue had always been one of the most monitored students in the mansion, especially by the adults. Her powers and her natural disposition had been a dangerous combination, and often the three adults had worried about her.

Gambit and the Acolytes stood apart from the X-Men, but it hadn't been on purpose. It was just the way the group seemed to stand when they came together.

Magneto stood apart from all.

Rogue's eyes scanned the room below her, her eyes easily tracking Bishop but unable to locate Pulse as yet. She knew from what little of his psyche that remained in her mind that his instinct would be to hide. He was not naturally a fighter, if he could avoid conflict he would.

Suddenly, Rogue felt a weight dragging her down. It was not a physical weight, but rather was gravity's pull. The psyches within her mind slowly began to disappear.

First went her self-healing ability, the little gem from Wolverine that powered her body as she used her imprinted abilities. Immediately, the damage to her physical state caused by using the psyches became clear. Pain racketed up her body from her chest outward. Her head pounded as the telekinesis she was using immediately sent her blood pressure sky high.

Then the telekinesis began to go.

The ground was rushing upwards very quickly, Rogue realized as her body spun in mid-air. She needed to prepare herself for hitting it, didn't she?

She couldn't really think when Pulse used his ability on her.

Rogue shook her head and concentrated, she could feel blood slowly dripping out of her nose at the effort, but she was able to twist her body so that her feet were facing the ground. She hit the floor hard, the reverberations vibrated through her bones and she could almost hear the sound of several of the bones in her feet breaking.

Pulse stepped out of the shadows, his eyes glowing with his mutant ability.

With the glow of the power and his natural golden coloring, he looked almost like an avenging angel. He held out his hands as if to say he was sorry for doing it, but Rogue wasn't having any of it.

She rushed him as soon as she had her wind back, her hands curling into fists as she ran towards him. Bishop finally arrived on the scene seconds later, rushing the man as well from a flanking side.

The two warriors met in the middle, Rogue leaping into a high kick that flew over Pulse's head as he ducked and Bishop's leap for Pulse's middle being narrowly avoided as the man rolled to the left.

Rogue skidded as her feet met the floor and she used the impetus to leap for the wall, pushing off and reaching for Pulse's arm, finally making contact. With a tuck and roll, she landed on the floor and he flew over her body, heading face-first for the wall several feet away.

Pulse twisted in mid-air and used his hands to flip himself over the wall instead and once again disappeared into the maze. His laughter and taunting words echoed back through the walls. "You'll have to try harder than that, Rogue."

With him and his powers moving out of influence Rogue's "borrowed" abilities flooded back, but only succeeded in making her headache worse.

Rogue closed her eyes and tried to find Wolverine in the psyches, his orb was brown with streaks of red and white, but found the effort to be a bit too much. "Bishop," she whispered as she felt herself slipping to her knees.

The older man, who had been preparing to follow Pulse, turned at her voice and moved to her side immediately. "Headache?"

She didn't even need to nod, he knew already.

Rifling through several pockets Bishop frantically searched for what was needed to keep Rogue from going into overload. It was a situation they'd been in several times and they knew if they couldn't cut off the pain it would send her into a seizure, which for someone with her nature of powers would be very, very bad.

Bishop's fingers curled around an inhaler in his breast pocket and he pulled it out quickly, pressing it into Rogue's mouth and squeezing the release button at the same time. The air-borne acetaminophen was quickly absorbed into her body and the tension and pain that'd made her body feel stiff and her mind fragile eased.

Rogue's fingers brushed his as she took the inhaler from Bishop but only her eyes told him of her appreciation. She stood slowly, inhaling another mouthful of her medicine before slipping it into a pocket of her uniform. She watched as Bishop slipped into the shadows, his eyes concerned. She shook her head wordlessly, and spared only a glance for the observers above. She didn't care what they'd made of her moment of weakness.

Her voice carried through the Danger Room easily, the irritation in it carried with it. "You did that on purpose, you bastard!"

Pulse laughed but the echo in the room made it impossible for Rogue to use that to close in on him. "You shouldn't broadcast your weakness to enemies, Rogue."

Though he hadn't intended it, his point was sharp. Rogue's eyes again found the observation booth above.

_You shouldn't broadcast your weakness..._

"I didn't know we were enemies," Rogue replied, hesitating a second before again using telekinesis to lift herself up, not into the air this time, however. She set her feet down on top of the wall and with preternatural ease balanced on it.

"You never know your enemies until they stab you in the back, darling," his voice was a lot closer this time, and his words even more so.

Who was the backstabber?

The X-Men?

The Acolytes?

Or Rogue?

Pulse was about to scale the wall just below Rogue, presumably to incapacitate the most powerful member of the team when a gun blast came through the wall just inches from his hands.

On the other side, Bishop readjusted his gun and listened to the voice in his head.

Sage spoke telepathically into his mind, her eyes studying the field as her mind studied the data. _Two inches to your right._

Bishop shot again, narrowly missing Pulse's arm, but the smaller man was already fleeing. Rogue jumped off the wall and landed on top of the thief, slamming him into the ground harshly. The sound of his head thumping against the floor was harsh but satisfactory.

"Say it," Rogue commanded as she used her telekinesis to pin Pulse facedown on the ground. As long as he couldn't see her, he couldn't use his ability on her.

"No," Pulse said in a calm voice, testing the strength of her "bonds" as he lay there.

"Oh, come on, Pulse-y, you know you want to," Rogue purred as she stood and stared down at him, stilling holding him there with her mind. "Say 'uncle'."

Bishop came around the corner, smoothly reloading his massive gun, and grinning. "We win?"

Rogue grinned and nodded. "He won't admit it, but yes."

Bishop's smile slowly faded. "Nope."

He aimed the gun at Rogue and fired.

Rogue instinctively took to the sky and created fog to hide herself there. Her mind was already speeding through the possibilities, latching onto a solid one when Sage's voice suddenly broke through fog.

"The new name of the game, Rogue, is take _you_ down. My calculations indicate that Pulse is too easy a target for this practice."

Rogue grinned and shrugged. "If you want to play, darlin', all you had to do was say so."

An energy blast, one of Bishop's, flashed through the fog too close to Rogue for comfort. It was also too close to the control room where the X-Men were located for safety. She adjusted her position accordingly and began to strategize.

Sage was clearly the one locating her sight unseen, but Bishop was the brute force behind it. If Rogue came down to take out Sage, then Pulse could de-power her and Bishop could remove her from the game.

She'd have to take Sage out without dispersing the fog that hid her or coming out of it.

Rogue had several abilities catalogued that could do that, but they'd also do some structural damage to the Danger Room.

Rogue bit her lip in indecision.

She had those abilities, but she also had one that would do damage only to her.

The question that remained was which she would rather risk. The Danger Room and by extension everyone in it, or just herself?

Rogue's body assumed the lotus position of her legs folded and her hands resting on her thighs even as her mind already made the decision.

Her astral form slipped from her body easily and unseen to anyone who was not telepathic. It drifted downwards from the ceiling easily, and Rogue could feel her heartbeat back in her body beginning to rise. She would only have little time to do this.

Jean Grey stood at the window and watched this with fascination. Her eyes were wide and more than a little envious as she watched. Unconsciously her hand reached out and grasped the Professor's where he had wheeled himself to the window as well. "I didn't know she could do that."

"She can do a lot of things we do not know about, Jean," Xavier admonished, but he too was fascinated. Astral forms were very difficult and very taxing to create. He himself could create one but had done so only twice in his life. Both times he had ended up in a coma as a result, the first one lasting two months.

Xavier realized he was holding Jean's hand and let go quickly. His mind was struggling to grasp this new variant in the situation. An astral form was a characteristic of only the most powerful telepaths on the Earth. As far as he'd known, he'd been the only one able to create one.

However, Rogue wasn't using his ability to create that astral form. The telepathic wave she was emitting was mainly an amalgam of Jean's.

Xavier wheeled himself from the window and backwards until he was next to Magneto. The other people in the room were watching the action below so intensely that they didn't notice. "I believe we need to speak after this, Magnus."

Magneto was unsurprised and simply nodded.

Gambit moved through the crowd to stand next to Jean. He didn't hold her hand, however. "What is she doing?"

"Something amazing," Jean confessed as she placed her hands on the pane of glass between her and the action, her mind eager to reach out and connect with Rogue's, to know how she was doing what she was doing.

"Gambit knows that, he can feel it. Just...what exactly?" Gambit asked distractedly, unconsciously mimicking Jean's movements and placing one of his hands on the glass.

Jean turned her head and studied Gambit's face. "You have a form of telepathy?" She asked quietly, not wanting the others to hear the conversation since he clearly didn't want anyone to know.

Gambit shook his head, his eyes scanning the nearby faces. He projected one word into her mind, with startling ease. _Empathy._

Jean nodded, her estimation of him rising as she did so. Empathy was a lesser form of telepathy, more easily controlled, but it was still telepathy in a way. When she spoke this time it was for the group's benefit as well as his. "She's projecting an astral form, essentially taking her consciousness from her body."

"Is that hard?" Kitty asked, her eyes concerned. From her side Colossus reached out and grasped her hand, providing comfort where she needed.

Jean nodded. "It's very difficult. As far as I knew, only the Professor could do it."

Scott was sitting at the controls and turned to Xavier when Jean said that. "Is that true?"

"Until now, yes," Xavier replied coolly. It was very clear to those that knew him that this was not a good thing.

"Look!" Nightcrawler suddenly yelled, transporting himself from the ceiling to the front of the group, blocking everyone's view as he attached himself with all five of his limbs to the glass.

"We will if you move, Kurt!" Scott said as he stood and pulled the blue-furred teen off the glass.

All they saw was fog.

"What are we looking for, Kurt?"

Nightcrawler's eyes were wide as he too looked for something in the fog. "_Meine Schwester_ cried out and fell! I think something is wrong!"

The fog suddenly began to dissipate and the teams waited anxiously to see what they would find on the ground below.


	22. Two Different Worlds

**_A/N: Special thanks to my new beta SkyRogue for being teh awesomeness. You really helped me make this chapter the best it can be and I thank you._

* * *

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**Chapter 22: Two Different Worlds

* * *

**

_Day 35_

_Bayville, New York_

She levitated above the fog, her mind reaching downward to cause chaos when Bishop directed his thoughts to her and her alone.

_It's time, Rogue._

Rogue's eyes opened and her astral form returned to her body in a tingling light-headed rush. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see the people in the Observation Booth watching her intently. She tried to contain the sly smile sliding across her face, but failed.

Taking a deep breath, Rogue repressed all the abilities that were not hers.

The levitation, the healing, the telepathy, all of it returned to the recesses of her mind and without them she felt vulnerable.

She was also now plummeting toward the Danger Room floor dozens of feet below.

She could only trust that Bishop would catch her.

* * *

_Day 36600_

_New York City, New York_

It was only one day since Bishop had spoken to Rogue but the change in her seemed drastic. The sickly pallor to her pale skin had faded away to leave a healthy flush in its place. Her hair had been washed at some point overnight and now shined cleanly; her distinctive white streak seemed more gold than it had yesterday.

He let himself in, asking her visitors to remain outside the door for a few minutes while he spoke to Rogue.

"How are you feeling this morning?" He asked as he closed the door.

Rogue was sitting up and looking out the window, watching as people literally flew past the windows every few minutes. "Who are those people?"

"Mutants. New York has one of the largest populations of flying mutants. I'm told flying through the ruins of Old New York is a great pleasure for them."

"What happened to Old New York?" Rogue asked, not turning her head. Her fingers clenched in her lap as she spoke, a sign of stress. Her voice did not bear its deep Southern accent today and Bishop again wondered why the switch. It didn't seem as if she was faking the accents, or if she was he could see no reason why she was.

"Around fifty years ago, right in the middle of the war a mutant sorceress by the name of Selene took New York hostage. She intended to make it a haven for mutants. She intended to control them. What baselines were left inside were slaughtered within hours by demons she had at her control. What mutants left inside were tortured and infected with a virus called Legacy to which she was the only source of the cure for them."

"How'd she take a whole city hostage?"

"She created a large orb of power around the city. No one could enter at ground level, from the air, or from below. When she was finally defeated, by a couple X-Men who'd been inside the city when she'd taken it over, the city was as it is now. Destroyed. Buildings burned down, looted, skyscrapers decimated. Afterwards the city was declared a No Man's Land. No one wanted to live there anymore. After that, the camps started. The government decided they didn't want another Hellfire incident so they started locking up mutants."

"I've missed a lot," Rogue commented softly, turning her head just enough to glance at him out of the corner of her blue eyes.

"Yeah, but I think I've got someone here who'll help fill in the cracks," Bishop replied. He turned to the door but kept his thoughts to himself. That same someone who'll help her would also let him know if she was telling the truth.

He pulled open the door and gestured for the smaller man to enter the room, waiting until he had done so to pulled Jean to the side. "Her eyes and voice have changed again."

"It's a worrying symptom but I can probably help with that today," Jean reassured him.

Bishop's eyes slid around the hallway, looking anywhere but at Jean.

She picked up on that. "What's wrong?"

"I...there's a problem at work. I don't know how long they'll going to be able to keep it quiet."

"What's happened?" Jean asked, concern weighing down her brow. Bishop knew it was acceptable to tell Jean everything; she had a higher security clearance than he did.

"The timeline is changing. We're losing contacts with operatives we have in the past. At first we thought it was an anomaly, but now we're not so sure."

"Why aren't you sure?"

"Because it's spreading," Bishop said solemnly, turning his dark eyes to Jean finally. "My superiors think Rogue has something to do with it. Especially if her story is true."

Jean nodded and placed her hand on his shoulder in comfort. "Then its best we do all we can to help her get better. If she's the cause then she'll be needed to fix it."

* * *

Rogue's eyes fluttered open enough to watch the passing of the overhead lights as she was rushed down a hallway. She wasn't being pushed on a gurney, she could feel arms wrapped around her. Arms she recognized as Bishop's, they were too hard and muscled to be anyone else's.

Like the buzzing of a fly around her ear, she could hear but not distinguish the voices that carried around her. She knew in her mind that it was Kitty, Kurt, and Professor Xavier who were speaking, just as she knew that Gambit, Magneto, and Wolverine followed behind them.

Anyone she'd ever imprinted, she could feel. If they were nearby, she knew it.

This was how she knew when they approached the Medical Lab where Beast was working.

Her very special and very unique abilities were also how she knew something was wrong, immediately.

"Dr. McCoy, I believe we need your assistance," Xavier said as he wheeled himself into the room just before Bishop carried Rogue through the doorway.

Beast looked up from the microscope in his side lab and hurried towards the door when Xavier called. Bishop went to lay Rogue on one of the examination tables and both of them watched out of the corners of their eyes as Beast went into a separate room for decontamination procedures before joining them in the actual medical laboratory.

He was working on the virus, then, Rogue knew. It was a worrying idea. He had no idea what he was playing with in there.

Rogue opened her senses; all of them and some that weren't hers and focused them on McCoy. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling a headache stirring deep inside her mind. Xavier watched her and wrongly assumed it was from her fall that her mind ached.

He didn't realize that her fall had been as scripted as the entire Danger Room battle sequence.

"I believe she has some internal injuries from her fall. It might be best if we did a full body x-ray."

McCoy nodded even as he moved to Rogue's side, smiling genially. "Can you tell me, Rogue, what hurts?"

Rogue's eyes shot open in sudden realization and she jerked away before Beast could touch her. In a swift movement she rolled off of the examination table and flattened herself against the wall on the other side, her eyes wild as she studied the mutant on the other side of the table, looking eerily like an animal when threatened.

Bishop's hand flew to his gun in the holster and he eyed McCoy suspiciously before moving to Rogue's side. "What's wrong?"

Xavier wheeled himself forward, watching Rogue's eyes spin around the room in an emotion not unlike panic.

It wasn't panic, though.

It was something tinged more with sadness.

"Rogue, are you okay?" Kitty asked from the other side of the bed, standing at McCoy's side. Kurt too moved around the bed to stand beside Bishop. He didn't speak, just studied his sister's pale face.

Gambit and Magneto stood near the door and simply watched.

Rogue took a deep breath, shaking her head as if to shake something loose, before turning to Bishop with a grave look in her eyes. "He's infected."

Bishop's sharp intake of air made the tension in the room shoot up even further.

Her words made no sense to anyone but him.

The sound of his gun sliding from the holster in the quiet room was ominous.

* * *

"Logan?" Her voice was quiet but shocked as Rogue's eyes slid over her former teacher.

He looked almost exactly the same. His hair was shorter, the sideburns trimmed neatly, and he looked healthier and safer than he ever had. He wore a short-sleeve shirt and slacks instead of jeans and flannel, but it was undoubtedly him.

"Rogue," Logan replied his happiness clear in his voice as he swiftly crossed the room. He didn't have to examine her or her scent to know it was her. It'd been clear to him the instant he'd stepped into the room. He'd know those green eyes anywhere.

"But...how?" Rogue asked as she reached for Logan's hands, stopping just before contact as she remembered her lack of gloves.

"I could ask you the same thing, Stripes," not for the first time Logan cursed her mutancy. He wanted nothing more than to hug Rogue as she deserved and had deserved for a long time. Instead, he settled for sitting on the side of her bed and staring at her intently.

Rogue shrugged self-consciously. "Last thing I remember is going to Scott and Jean's graduation. After that..."

"After that we lost you," Logan supplied. His ears picked up Jean and Bishop's conversation and for a few seconds he concentrated on them. Finally, he turned his attention back to Rogue. "You disappeared. We were never able to find you. I guess now I know why."

"Is it true?" Rogue asked, leaning forward to whisper. "Is this...the future?"

"Yes," Logan answered her just as softly. "You've missed a lot, but its okay. You're not alone, anymore. I'm here."

Rogue smiled tremulously before her body started to tremble. "I was never alone, Logan. I never will be again. I need help."

Logan's eyes darkened. "What's wrong?"

"She's tearing me apart, Logan," Rogue replied as a tear leaked out of her eye. Logan watched the tear and saw when her eye color began to darken to blue again.

Instantly, he understood what was happening to her. "I'll get Jean."

* * *

Rogue clenched Bishop's shirt in her fingers and pulled him closer. "Three days. He's been infected for three days." Her eyes glazed over as she turned her internal senses deeper into Beast. "He's been contagious for at least one day."

Bishop's fingers held the gun loosely, belying the sudden tension that held him rigid. "No more games. We can't afford to play anymore, Rogue. It's time to get serious."

Rogue released her hold on her partner and took a step back, pressing her fevered back to the cool wall and closed her eyes. "I know, Bishop." She chewed her bottom lip as she savored the sudden quiet of the room. No one knew what to say because they didn't know what was happening. They didn't know the gravity of this sudden discovery. They didn't know how dangerous the situation had just become.

Beast coughed lightly and smiled shyly at the tense group. "I'm sorry; I must be coming down with a cold."

Rogue opened her eyes and stared at Beast coldly. Her words were meant for Bishop, however, when she spoke. "Do it."

There was no time for reaction when Bishop raised his gun and fired.

Beast was dead before he hit the ground.

The silence of the room was shattered first by the gunshot, and then by the unrelenting screams of Shadowcat as she ran from the room, covered in the blood of her teacher.

Xavier shook from the sudden actions, and his words were laced with anger as he faced his former student and the stranger in their midst.

No.

He shook as he faced the two strangers before him.

"Why?"

Rogue's face was cold as she stared him down. "To save the world sacrifices must be made."

Her words calmed some of the anger within Xavier, but not all of it. "The virus?"

"He'd been infected. There is no cure in this time. The only result can be death, sooner or later." Bishop spoke for her, re-holstering his gun even as he turned from the few remaining people in the room to look at Rogue. "Scan the mansion; find out if anyone else is infected."

Xavier's anger resurged. "I will not have you slaughtering my students."

Bishop's gun was back in his hand before anyone had registered his movement. "You don't have to have me do anything. You have no control over the situation anymore."

Rogue placed her hand over Bishop's and slowly lowered the gun. "I've scanned the mansion. He must have remained down here most of the time because no one else is infected." Bishop nodded and put his gun away. Now Rogue was giving the orders. "Go retrieve Sage and Pulse. We'll be leaving, now."

"You've got what you came for, I take it?" Magneto asked, stepping aside to let Bishop through the doorway.

Rogue concentrated on McCoy's lab and the group turned at the first sound of glass breaking. With no fire, no explosion of any kind, the laboratory where the now dead doctor had been working self-destructed. The equipment collapsed onto itself and even the air itself was sucked out of the room and into a small wormhole that had suddenly formed within it.

How appropriate it was that Fitzroy who'd brought this virus to this time would have his ability be used to remove it.

When she finally closed the wormhole, the laboratory was just an empty room, no equipment, no counters, no stools.

No virus.

"Now I got what I came for," Rogue replied in a smooth tone, keeping her own inner turmoil to herself. She slowly walked around the bed and stared down at McCoy's dead body and felt something inside her break at the sight.

Rogue kneeled beside him and placed her hand on his forehead, ignoring the soft tickle of fur beneath her palm. She concentrated and under her ministrations his body began to fade from existence. Within seconds her hand was simply hovering in the air, no longer resting on anything.

Her superiors in the future would take care of his body now.

She stood and turned to her observers.

Kurt was the first to speak.

"How can you be so...cold? You..." He paused, took a step back and bumped into the wall behind him. "...you're not my sister."

"No, I'm not," Rogue agreed, blinking slowly as she began to speak, her thoughts lingering somewhere in the future where even now members of the X.S.E. were cataloguing McCoy's arrival and preparing him for disposal. "I thought I could do this without bloodshed, or at least not a lot of it. I convinced my superiors and my partner that we could do this with subtlety. That we wouldn't have to use force to remove the virus. I convinced them that doing this under the radar would be best for the timeline and for everyone."

Rogue gestured to the now empty floor behind her. "I was wrong and I'm sorry."

Gambit watched her from hooded eyes, and he alone could feel the depth of the pain within her. He repeated Bishop's words. "_Plus de jeux."_

Rogue's eyes were vulnerable when she looked at him. She nodded. "No more games."

* * *

She looked exactly like her great-grandmother; Rogue thought to herself and realized just how disturbing it was to think that.

Underneath the delicate features and the red hair, however, Rogue sensed a brittle strength that was all Scott. The blue eyes that watched her with the raw telepathic power behind them were the perfect combination of Scott and Jean.

"Hello, Rogue," Jean said quietly as she stood at the foot of the hospital bed. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I doubt that," Rogue replied just as quietly with only an edge of attitude.

Jean blushed lightly and smiled sheepishly. "Okay, not really a lot, but some. Enough to recognize you when I first heard about you being here."

"I have you to thank for bringing Logan here?" Rogue asked, her hands fisting in the sheets even as she kept her face perfectly calm.

"Yes. I thought he would be able to help confirm your identity."

Rogue nodded. "Do you and Officer Bishop trust my story now?"

Jean nodded as well. "We do."

"Are you going to help me now?"

"Yes, I think I can. I'll need you to explain just what it going on in your mind first."

"There's someone else in there trying to take control. Her name is Carol Danvers. I killed her body and now her mind is trapped within mine. Professor Xavier once helped me solve a problem like this. He removed all the psyches, what we call the personalities and abilities within my mind, he removed them from my mind by force."

Jean moved to take a seat on the edge of Rogue's bed, the same place where Logan had sat only minutes before. "I remember the story. They were trying to take over your body right? You ended up attacking your teammates."

Rogue glared daggers at the woman. "I didn't mean to."

"I know," Jean assured her, "but this doesn't seem to be the same thing. From what the doctors and Lucas have told me, this particular psyche isn't trying to take control. It's more like..."

"More like?" Rogue prompted as the redhead trailed off.

Jean shook her head. "Nevermind. I'll know more after I examine you. Do you mind?"

Rogue pouted but shook her head. She closed her eyes and almost immediately felt the soft coaxing "touch" of Jean's telepathy. With a small sigh, Rogue relaxed her mental shields and let the stranger in.

For ten minutes the two women remained almost statue-still, only the rise and fall of their chests relaying that they still lived. Logan and Bishop watched with not a little trepidation between them the entire time. Neither was willing to leave and every time a doctor or nurse attempted to enter the room they were rebuffed.

Finally, Jean gasped and opened her eyes. She blinked several times as if unused to the light and sat back from the smaller woman, pressing her fingers to her temples and massaging absent-mindedly.

Rogue's eyes opened more slowly but with more alertness. She gave no sign of feeling pain like Jean. "So?"

Jean shook her head slowly, running sweating fingers through her hair. "I can't do what you ask of me, Rogue. I can do something else though."

"Why can't you remove it?" Rogue asked, not so much angry as frustrated.

"Because there's nothing to remove," Jean explained, then struggled to expound. "You were unconscious for a month and in that month your mind was cut off from the physical world. Without any outside stimuli or aid, it tried to heal itself. Carol Danvers was such a large and complete psyche that your mind had to ease the pressure. It started to absorb her psyche completely. These glitches of the transition, your eye color changing, your accent coming and going, those are just small manifestations of your inner change. The only problem I can see is that the assimilation of her psyche is only halfway. You woke up before you were completely healed. Then, for another month, your mind further damaged itself because of the other psyches in your mind trying to take control."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Rogue asked as she tried to figure out what Jean was telling her.

Jean sighed. "I can finish healing your mind, but that doesn't mean I'll remove Carol's psyche. The only way to heal you is to finish the assimilation."

"And just what does that mean?" Bishop asked, curious despite himself. This had to be one of the strangest situations he'd ever found himself in.

"Rogue and Carol would essentially become one person. Their memories would become one, their thoughts, their powers. They would be indelibly together." Jean turned back to Rogue. "You won't be the same afterwards. The way you think, the way you act, the way you speak, even the way you look. It'll be like you've become a different person." Rogue started to speak, but Jean held up her hand as if to shush her. "It's the only thing I can think to do. Otherwise, I fear your mind will continue to..." She paused, glancing at Logan and Bishop before continuing, "I fear your mind will continue to break. Already I can feel the cracks within you where the many psyches are pulling it apart."

Rogue bit her lip and leaned back into her bed. She thought deeply and already she could feel some of the changes Jean spoke of.

She could also feel some of the painful cracks within her mind that she'd warned of.

Errant thoughts not her own kept popping up, and her own thoughts had an edge to them they'd never had before.

There was only one recourse.

"Okay," Rogue said quietly. "Do it."


	23. Three Short Elegies

_A/N:_ Much thanks to my beta SkyRogue, who is the awesome-est and helps make these chapters so much better...and you know...readable.

* * *

**Chapter 23: Three Short Elegies

* * *

**

_Day 35_

_Bayville_

Rogue and Bishop remained quiet as they walked through the halls underneath the manor. Rogue was forcing herself not to think, not to let the reverberations of her actions only moments ago sink in. If she did, she feared she would not be able to continue this mission.

Bishop had no such problems. "We need to alter mission parameters."

"Do you feel that contact with our superiors is necessary?" Rogue asked mildly, her eyes forward as she and her partner moved into the elevator. She pressed the button for ground level and ignored the small tremble in her fingers.

"No. I believe between the two of us we can lay out a plan of action."

Rogue lips quirked in a smile and she turned to look at Bishop for the first time since he brutally dispatched Beast from this world. "There are only two samples left, Shaw's and Dr. Essex's. Both come with a variety of difficulties."

Bishop nodded, his dark eyes intense as he studied Rogue's face. "Have you resolved yourself to this situation, Rogue?"

Rogue turned her face from him, again facing the elevator doors before her. "I'm trying."

"Good. We have a lot of work ahead of us."

The elevator stopped and opened its doors as Rogue nodded, her feet taking her away before Bishop could tell her otherwise. "Gather our things and ready Sage and Pulse for departure."

Bishop smiled slightly as he watched her walk quickly away. "And what will you be doing?"

"Resolving myself."

Bishop shrugged and left the elevator, moving in the opposite direction. As he moved through the halls his uniform creaking was the only sound that could be heard.

That's not to say he was alone, far from it. From almost every doorway he passed a student watched, their eyes passing over him almost apathetically, lingering on the gun at his side. Clearly the news of just what had happened downstairs had already made its rounds in the manor, most presumably by Shadowcat as she'd been the only one to leave the medical laboratory before himself and Rogue.

For most of his walk to the set of rooms where Sage and Pulse had retired after the Danger Room session Bishop remained unaccosted. The students seemed content to remain merely observers of the dangerous stranger in their midst.

Cyclops waited until Bishop had turned the corner and was out of most of the younger students' sight before making his move. Stepping out of one of the doorways, the younger man stood stiffly in Bishop's path, positioned in such a way that the larger mutant couldn't brush past him.

Bishop stopped only when it became clear that Scott wasn't intending on moving. "Move," he commanded solemnly, his voice quiet but the tone serious.

"Why'd you do it?"

Bishop lifted his eyebrow slowly, his skepticism clear. "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't think Rogue would have allowed for something like this to happen if there wasn't a really good reason."

Bishop smiled and it wasn't a nice one. "Yes, there is a good reason."

"Are you going to tell me?" Scott asked with a touch of impatience. Jean Grey stepped to the doorway just to their right and Bishop found himself marveling, again, at just how much she looked like her descendent.

Her eyes were rimmed with red from what could only have been a powerful cry, but the crystalline green of her eyes was crackling with threat. "Tell us, or I'll pull the information from your mind."

She could do it, Bishop knew. She was the most powerful telepath of this time, at the moment held back only by mental partitions and Xavier's will.

Scott seemed unsettled by Jean's sudden appearance and uncomfortable with her threat. He didn't say anything, however, but let her take over the conversation.

"You'll only find answers you don't want in there," Bishop said lightly, turning his full attention onto the bigger threat. Behind him the patter of steps on the carpet alerted him to their audience and his head tilted just a bit as he concentrated on the movements of those around him.

"You just killed one of our mentors. Maybe we'll take whatever answers we can get," Jean replied calmly, any trace of emotional turmoil gone from her voice but lingering in her eyes.

Bishop shrugged slowly, his gun making a scraping noise that seemed to echo down the hall as he did so. He directed his thoughts to Jean. _If you do this, you could make this situation a lot worse._

In mimicry of his earlier movements, she shrugged. _All we want are answers_.

_You don't even know the correct question to ask_, Bishop thought with a sense of arrogance.

Jean stepped close, lifting her hand until it hovered just above the skin of his temple. _I bet the right questions are in there. I need only to find them._

_There are plenty of questions in there, and plenty of answers that would require me to dispatch you here and now_, Bishop thought with finality. Jean stepped back as if slapped, and Scott wrapped his arm around her waist in comfort.

She took a shaky breath and suddenly that cool control she'd held over herself disappeared, revealing the grieving teenage girl that'd hidden behind it. Her hand slid down Scott's arm where he'd wrapped it around her until she could slide her fingers through his. Together, they stepped out of Bishop's way.

He stood there; studying the couple before turning just slightly enough to stare down the younger teenagers behind him where they peaked around the corner. Immediately they ducked out of sight, unwilling to enter a stare-down with him.

Bishop continued past the X-Men and finally made his way to where Sage and Pulse waited. They both stood within the room in varying states of anxiety; that is to say, Sage had no anxiety and Pulse was practically vibrating with it.

Neither spoke as Bishop shut the door behind them and stood there staring silently.

Sage took a step forward, her eyes locked onto his and unspoken communication passed between them. "The plan did not go as was intended," she concluded quietly.

Bishop shook his head. "No, it did not."

"What? What happened? Where's Rogue?"

Bishop ignored Pulse's frantic questions and took his time answering. "They did have one of the samples of Legacy. Dr. McCoy was working on the virus and failed to take severe enough precautions. He was infected and had to be disposed of."

Sage and Pulse were silent as they absorbed his statement.

Sage nodded slightly before moving around the room, gathering the things that they'd brought with them. The laptop computer slid back into its bag, their clothing was folded quickly and also went into the bag. Various weapons were fastened on her person, some hidden, some not. Within minutes, she was clearly prepared to leave.

Pulse just stood there, his eyes unseeing as his thoughts circled round. Finally, he spoke, "Have we failed?"

Bishop glared at him sharply. "No. We will have to take stronger strides in achieving it, however."

"Where's Rogue?" Pulse asked suddenly, running his hands through his shaggy hair unconsciously.

"She had something to do before we leave."

Sage smiled slightly, her eyebrows high on her forehead as she spoke softly. "Let's hope she's saying goodbye."

* * *

Rogue moved quickly down the hallway, following the echoing low-level sobs that were barely audible even with her enhanced hearing.

She didn't find Kitty where she expected. Kitty should have been in her room, lying on her bed cradling one of her many stuffed animals as she cried. Instead, Rogue followed the trail to one of the guest quarters on the opposite side of the mansion.

Specifically, she followed the trail to Piotr Rasputin's quarters.

Rogue's lips quirked despite the situation. Kitty had always had a weakness for "bad boys", perhaps even more so than Rogue. Admittedly, however, Kitty had moved up on the bad boy totem pole. Avalanche had definitely never been good enough for Kitty, in Rogue's opinion, but from her imprint of Colossus Rogue knew that underneath the Acolyte-exterior lay the heart of a true artist and a good man.

Rogue paused just outside the door, listening intently to the sounds on the other side. A deep voice murmured softly, comforting words that seemed to help ease the sobbing that erupted from the small girl. Kitty hiccupped deeply before doing something that muffled the sounds coming from her mouth.

Rogue pushed the door open and took in the couple that knelt in the middle of the floor. They didn't notice her entrance, so deeply engrossed in each other that they were. Kitty had her faced pressed against Piotr's shoulder, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. As he comforted her Piotr used a warm towel to gently remove the drops of blood still lingering on her face.

Rogue watched them for a few seconds before knocking lightly on the door frame to get their attention. Piotr stiffened immediately, shooting hostile looks at Rogue even as he wrapped his arms around Kitty and stood slowly.

Kitty didn't look at Rogue at all.

Rogue tightened her jaw and concentrated on not showing any of her emotions in her face. "I need to talk to Kitty. Alone."

"No," was Piotr's immediate response. He moved with ease to his bed, setting Kitty down gently before facing Rogue with a sense of bravado that was grossly out of place.

Rogue looked at Piotr, at the courage it took to face her. His face was full of concern for Kitty, but also with fear of her. It was well-placed fear. Looking deeply into his eyes, Rogue placed a suggestion into his mind at the same time she spoke it softly. "Go to sleep."

Piotr's eyes closed and he fell to the floor with a loud thump, the sudden crash of his body making the furniture around the room shake. Kitty whimpered but stayed where she was sitting just on the edge of the bed, her fingers white where they gripped the bedspread.

Rogue hesitated, looking at the sleeping form of Piotr, and then at the near-catatonic Kitty. She shut the door suddenly and moved across the room within seconds, kneeling in front of her former friend with an apologetic look on her face. "Kitty-"

"Don't call me that," the girl interrupted. "Don't call me Kitty like you're my friend. You're not. I don't know who you are."

"I'm the person trying to save your life. Your life and the entire world. It's hard to know what decision to make sometimes," Rogue said on a suddenly tremulous note. "It's hard to know if you're doing the right thing." Rogue slid her hand into a hidden pocket of her uniform, wrapping clammy fingers around the vial there. "I can only hope that I'm doing the right thing at the moment."

Kitty looked up, her blue eyes bloodshot and her face pale. Rogue pulled a small vial from her pocket and reached for Kitty's hand, placing the object in her hand. "You're...you're infected. The second Beast's blood touched you, you became another victim. I..." Rogue closed her eyes and pressed her chilled hand to her feverish forehead. The situation had begun to take its toll on her, putting pressure on her in ways she hadn't anticipated. "I couldn't let him kill you, not like Beast. We..." Rogue's eyes sprang open and she looked into Kitty's face with sudden clarity. "I loved you once, like a sister. I'm doing this because sometimes I can remember what that felt like." Rogue stood and took a step back, physically and mentally. "That vial has the cure within it. There's enough to cure you, and you alone. It needs to be injected directly into your blood stream, as soon as possible."

Kitty wrapped shaking fingers around the fragile glass container, drawing it up to hold it to her chest. "You have the cure? If you have a cure, why-"

"Our goal isn't to wipe out the virus and prevent it from ever occurring. The mission we have is to get the timeline back on track," Rogue explained as she started for the door. "The virus will happen, it just can't happen now."

"It's supposed to kill millions of people, but it _must_ happen? Why?" Kitty asked in confused agony.

Rogue shrugged and smiled bitterly as she opened the door, her mind already light years ahead of her plotting her next course of action. "The virus is...a tragedy. But it accomplishes something that no amount of fighting or compromising had ever done."

"What?"

Rogue moved into the hallway, letting the door close almost completely before she answered, knowing her words would be heard by more than just Kitty. "It lays the groundwork for peace."

The door clicked shut and Rogue pressed her back firmly against it as she stared at the man leaning against the wall opposite. His red and black eyes were unreadable, but his mouth was twisted into a dangerous smirk. His fingers played with a deck of cards easily, the digits moving with an ease that spoke of years of experience.

"How's the _petite_?" He asked in his thick Southern accent, his voice breaking the silence between them.

"She's going to be fine," Rogue replied in a cool, pointedly not-accented voice. Rogue's thoughts suddenly reached a startling conclusion and it caused her brow to wrinkle in consternation.

"What's wrong?" He asked, sliding the playing cards into a hidden pocket with ease as he suddenly straightened and moved closer.

Rogue's eyes were a stormy grey when they locked with his.

"Is your offer to help still open?" Rogue asked softly, stepping closer to further reduce the risk of anyone overhearing.

"My offer to help?"

"Yes, Gambit, your offer to help. You said you could take me to Essex," Rogue explained, her head tilted as she listened to something he couldn't hear. With a sudden movement, she grasped his overcoat by the lapel and pulled him down the hall.

They'd just made it around the corner when Magneto and Xavier appeared on the other end. Rogue used a small mirror, simple but effective, to watch as they let themselves into Piotr's rooms.

She sighed and realized with a start that she still had a strong grip on Gambit's coat and had unconsciously pulled him closer. Releasing him, she put her palm flat against his chest and pushed him away. She glowered and folded her arms expectantly. "Well?"

"Dat depends, _chère_. You accept my c'ditions?"

"Yes. Just you and me."

Gambit shrugged. "Then, _oui_. De Gambit at your service."

Rogue smiled briefly and reached for his hand. She pushed up his sleeve and bared the skin of his forearm. Gambit quirked his eyebrow but let her continue whatever it was that she was trying to do. Pressing her index finger against his skin she pulled on one of her least used imprinted abilities and watching as underneath her ministrations the pigment in his skin began to change color, forming numbers and letters before their eyes.

When she was finished an address was clearly printed there, looking for all the world just like a tattoo.

"Nifty trick,_ chère_. Gambit hopes it comes off as easy as on."

Rogue grinned, amused despite the situation. "You'll find out, now won't you? Meet me there tomorrow. We can get underway from there." Gambit nodded and started to back away when Rogue wrapped a hand around his lapel and jerked him close again. "And if you tell anyone about that address or about you helping me, I'll use some of the abilities I've imprinted to emasculate you in a way that makes eunuchs look like porn stars, _capiche_?"

Gambit grimaced and pulled away. "_Oui_!" He hissed as he straightened his overcoat and started down the hall, muttering under his breath about "crazy _femmes_" as he did so.

Rogue shook her head and followed him, watching as he ducked into his own rooms before continuing on her way to where she knew Bishop waited. She could feel the atmosphere of the mansion slowly escalating as more details of the happenings after the Danger Room session got around.

Some of the atmosphere was grief and fear, both emotions to be expected in large quantities considering her and Bishop's actions of the last hour.

There was an edge of anger, however, and it was quickly rising to the surface.

Rogue paused as a wave of rage swept through the mansion, slamming into her with the force of a sledgehammer and forcing her to her knees.

Rogue's mind spun and she realized it was her own fault for unconsciously letting Gambit's empathy rise to the surface of her control. Breathing deeply, Rogue focused on the rage and followed it all the way back to its source...

...and found Jean nearing the edge of her own self-control. Rogue watched with interest (and a little pain) as Jean lifted her hand and it hovered over Bishop's temple. The rage quaking within Jean was immense and strong and the depth of it surprised Rogue.

While Jean was distracted with threatening Bishop, Rogue took the chance to study her former rival.

Rogue concentrated and took her mind to the astral plane and was shocked by the vision of Jean that stood there. Her presence here was massive, stretching out in many directions, and she was almost hard to look at.

Jean seemed almost...to be made of fire. Her form was undulating and burning with brilliance and as Rogue watched the form almost seemed to unfold from itself, stretching out impossibly larger with what appeared to be...wings...

Rogue released her hold on the astral plane and slammed back into her body, shutting her shields tight as she stood on unsteady legs. Her body was rushing with adrenaline from what she'd seen and her control seemed shaky for the second time in as many days. However, despite the shakiness of her control, none of the psyche-orbs inside her were rushing to take control.

In fact, they seemed to be cowering deep within her as if even they felt the power Jean wielded and were wary of it.

A hand on her elbow gave her unexpected support and Rogue's head snapped to the left to stare into Wolverine's eyes as he stood too close. His face held no emotion, and his hand was gentle where he touched her.

Rogue slowly pulled her arm from his grip and turned to face him.

It was so odd to face this younger version of Logan, knowing what she knew now. His face was the same, his hair longer, but overall he was almost a mirror version of what he would be 100 years down the line.

"You should think about getting out of here, Stripes. The natives are getting restless."

Rogue nodded and bit the edge of her lip, unsure of what to say. There were many things she could say, many things she shouldn't say, and in the end, she couldn't resist. "Why aren't you angry like they are?"

"Death is unavoidable," Logan replied in his rough voice. "It happens to everyone."

Rogue stared at him solemnly. "Except you."

Logan's eyebrows shot up. "I'm still alive in the future?"

"Yeah," Rogue said quietly. "You hadn't aged a single day last time I saw you."

Logan wasn't sure what to make of that statement, so he just stood there silently.

Rogue spoke again, in a rush. "You told me there were a lot of things you regretted. Things you regretted not saying, not doing. You should...you should do those things."

"What things?"

Rogue shrugged. "I can't tell you, but just...if you think about it you'll figure it out. For people like you and me, with the potential to live forever? To live with regret is torture."

* * *

Rogue opened the door slowly, knowing that her people were most likely on edge and liable to shoot first and bury the bodies later.

Pulse was pacing near the window, Sage was meditating on the bed, and Bishop was pointing his gun at her heart.

She quirked her eyebrow and gestured to the gun and watched with some amusement as he sheepishly put it away. "Why the hostile greeting?"

"First lesson from academy was 'Be prepared for anything'," Bishop explained as he moved to shut the door behind her.

Rogue grinned and found herself forgiving Bishop for the pain he'd caused her, though of course he hadn't known he'd caused it. She was supposed to be apathetic about this situation, removed from the emotional ramifications.

"Are we prepared to move?" Rogue asked as she gazed around the room, noting with approval that it'd been cleaned of their presence to the point that you couldn't tell they'd ever been there at all.

"Yes," Sage answered as she picked up her laptop bag and the small carry-all filled with her things. Pulse already had his messenger bag on, and neither Rogue nor Bishop had brought anything with them.

Rogue nodded approvingly and bit the inside of her cheek as she debated telling them the plan now or later.

A sharp knock on the bedroom door behind her made her resolve to explain things later.

"Be prepared to catch me," she warned Bishop as she tapped into the teleportation psyche-orb in her mind and rifled through her options.

The person just outside knocked again, harder, and Rogue concentrated as she pulled on the power within her.

Whoever was on the other side of the door had questions Rogue was not intending on answering.

Beneath their feet shadows began to form, pooling like liquid, inky black and dangerous looking. It was a form of teleportation she only used when transporting a group, because it took so much out of her and because it drew attention that she preferred to avoid.

For four people, however, she had no other ability capable of transporting them all at once.

The shadows formed a large circle around them, just large enough for the four of them to fit in comfortably. With a rush of unease and pain deep within her mind, the shadows crawled up their bodies and enveloped them.

As quickly as the shadows had formed, they dissipated and took the foursome with them.

As the light from the sun outside filtered into the room and the shadows returned to their appropriate positions, the bedroom door was opened and Magneto walked in.

He looked around, noting the absolute impeccable look of the room and sighed heavily. His thoughts resounded through the mansion to where Xavier sat alone in his office. _They're gone, Charles._

Xavier opened his eyes and regarded the empty room before him.

Rogue and her companions had disappeared as quickly as they'd appeared.

Beast was dead, and his body gone.

Nightcrawler had teleported away and had yet to return.

Shadowcat was in shock and had refused to speak to him when he and Magneto had sought her out.

Colossus, to his knowledge, was still unconscious on his bedroom floor.

Xavier massaged his temples and struggled with the dark melancholy threatening to engulf him.

When had the situation spiraled so far out of his control?


	24. Life Begins at Four O'Clock

**A/N: Much appreciation to my beta SkyRogue. **

* * *

**Chapter 24: Life Begins At Four O'Clock **

_Day 35_

_New York City, New York_

The apartment was luxurious, with high ceilings and breathtaking views of Central Park. The furnishings were expensive and tasteful. The art on the walls were originals.

The lone inhabitant noticed none of that. He didn't notice the cashmere soft carpet beneath his feet, nor the five star meals delivered three times a day by an overpaid servant. He spent his days gazing out his crystalline windows and watching the people below as they moved about, all of them on their way to _do_ something.

Sometimes, if he was lucky, he got to _do_ something too.

Warren was so preoccupied with his intense brooding that he didn't notice when the shadows that lay long and shallow across the room behind him suddenly began to pool together, churning darker and thicker until it seemed like a black hole had opened in the middle of the carpet.

When four dark silhouettes rose up from that hole and the shadows fell away, he still didn't notice the four mutants standing there. It was only when one of the mutants, the one that if he'd looked he would recognize, suddenly collapsed with an echoing thump and began to shake uncontrollably, that he even realized he was no longer alone.

Bishop kneeled beside Rogue, pulling a short cylinder of wood from one of his numerous pockets and shoving it between her clattering teeth. He spoke tersely to the two mutants who stood nearby. "She's seizing. Go start a hot bath; she'll go into shock after this."

The blond mutant nodded, dropping his bag and looking around steadily. His eyes locked on the winged mutant by the windows. "Where's your bathroom?"

Warren quirked an eyebrow, his face stoic though his mind raced with unknowns. His blue eyes slid over the group and locked on the writhing figure on the floor. "What are you doing to Rogue?" He demanded, his wings unfolding magnificently as he moved across the room.

"I'm trying to help her," Bishop said roughly as he used his strength to hold her shoulders down. The fear of her biting her tongue off was circumvented by the wooden rod, but her bashing her head in on the floor was still possible. "The seizure can last anywhere from a minute to five. When it stops her body will be in shock, she'll be very cold and will need help staying warm. Where is your bathroom?!"

Warren knelt beside Rogue, his mind struggling to comprehend the changes he saw. The shorter hair, the facial tattoo, even her uniform was different. "It's just off the hall there, second door on the right."

Pulse moved down the hall quickly and within seconds the sound of water hitting the tub was heard. "Hey, it's a Jacuzzi, too!" Pulse said excitedly, as usual his mood grossly out of place with the situation.

"Just get the water hot, damnit!" Bishop shouted back, his superior hearing picking up Pulse's mumbled retort easily.

"I bet bubbles would make her feel better..."

Bishop rolled his eyes but his moment of inattention had its price. Rogue's bucking body broke from his hold, her head rising up and hitting the floor hard enough to thump solidly.

Warren moved to the phone, his intent clear. "She clearly needs help!"

Bishop's eyes shot to Sage's and she in turn moved to stand in front of Warren. "We are helping, Warren."

He froze as he stared into the silver eyes of the woman before him. "What are you doing to me?"

"Rogue clearly chose this place as the end point of our transport for a reason. We are not calling for outside help. You seem sleepy, Warren."

He was, he realized suddenly, he was very sleepy. "I don't get much sleep."

"You spend your nights flying above New York, saving the people. You deserve a break," Sage explained, the waves of her telepathy washing over him easily, subverting his own thoughts and replacing them with her own.

Warren's eyes glazed over. "I think I'll go lay down."

"That's a good idea," Sage replied unnecessarily. Warren walked into his bedroom just off the living area and fell into his ridiculously large bed, asleep within seconds. Sage viewed the bed with raised eyebrows before moving back to Bishop's side. "That's a very big bed."

"Don't get any ideas," Bishop said with a small smile, seeing with some satisfaction that that Rogue's body had stopped seizing and was trembling only lightly with aftershocks. Her body was cold where his fingers dug into her shoulders, however.

Bishop sighed and slid his massive arms under her smaller figure, lifting her easily and moving towards the bathroom. "This is serious; we shouldn't be joking around at a time like this."

"There's little else to do while we wait," Sage replied as she followed, sliding her fingers along the wallpaper before stopping in the doorframe. She watched as Bishop slid Rogue's fully clothed body into the water. He gestured for Pulse to step close.

"Hold her head above water. Make sure nothing manifests as she warms up," Bishop ordered as he stood, waiting until Pulse's eyes had begun to glow with power before stepping away.

"I take it this has happened before?"

Bishop nodded. "Many times. When she arrived in my timeline, she was out of control. Seizures like this were common as we tried to train her. The reintegration process was...very difficult."

Sage nodded, tapping her temple with one long-nailed finger. "I remember. I thought she'd advanced past this, however."

He shook his head. "We're careful, but...if she pulls on too much of the psyches she contains, she still overloads. It's like...a circuit breaker. Her body cuts off before she self-destructs; the seizures are a side effect."

Sage nodded and walked with him back into the living area. "We're back in New York."

Bishop nodded. "We haven't discussed it but I'm almost certain we're going after the Hellfire Club's Legacy sample this time."

"What about the third sample?"

Bishop turned unreadable eyes onto the view out the windows. "We haven't discussed it."

* * *

_Day 36607_

_New York City, New York_

The view from her window wasn't what she expected. When she'd thought of the future, a future Professor Xavier had extolled to his students day in, day out, she'd always imagined it to be cleaner than this. Maybe in her dreams she'd even imagined butterflies in the streets, mutants walking proudly side by side with humans.

She'd imagined the world would become a happier place than the one she'd lived in.

Instead, it seemed to have gotten worse. The people she could see all seemed to have fear tattooed on their faces, in some cases literally.

"Where are you taking me?" Rogue asked, placing feverish fingers against the cool glass that was all that separated her from the crowds outside. Her mind and body felt sore, as if battered from a war. She'd felt this way since she'd allowed the telepath Jean Summers inside her mind, presumably to heal her.

If she was healed, however, why did she feel worse than before?

"The X.S.E. wants you in a more secure area now that you're on the mend," Bishop explained as he watched her. Behind him two lower rank X.S.E. officers remained silent, their hands on their side-arms (though as mutants it was likely they didn't need them).

Rogue smiled bitterly, and turned her head enough to see the trio out of the corner of her eye. A strand of golden hair shifted into her face and she pushed it behind her ear subconsciously. She still wasn't used to the new color and found that she missed the old arctic white. "A prison?"

"No," Bishop said quickly. "Just...secure. We've had travelers from the past before, but never any as powerful as you. My superiors are concerned that certain militant groups of this time would have use for you, and if they found out, they would seek you out."

"Protection," Rogue murmured as she moved from the window cautiously, her steps hesitant as if at any second she expected pain to rip through her. By the time she was leaning on the hospital bed, her face was pale and sweating. "You have clothes for me? I don't relish flashing my ass as we leave."

Bishop stifled a smile and nodded. "We brought some clothing."

Rogue's lips quirked as she reached for the bundle he held out. She murmured to herself as she slowly pulled out garments. "You'd think in a hundred years they'd design a better hospital gown."

"You'd think," Bishop agreed. He closed the curtain to give her some privacy as she changed and exchanged hard looks with the two subordinates behind him. "Is the route clear?"

"Aye, sir."

"The transport is ready?"

"Aye."

"Has patrol been informed of the plan?"

"Aye, sir."

Bishop nodded as if satisfied. "Step outside for a moment."

Rogue peaked around the curtain. "Is this the point in the movie where you assassinate me?"

Bishop's expression bordered on incredulous; it was the most facial expression she'd ever seen out of him. "Excuse me?"

She shrugged. "Sorry, I've seen too many espionage movies. Tends to make me paranoid." She smiled mischievously. "Well, that and the voices in my head."

Bishop couldn't hold back his smile this time. As they traveled to the door, he placed one of his large hands at the base of her back, guiding her and establishing an air of protection to ward off curious people. "We're gonna try to work on that..."

* * *

_Day 36_

_New York City, New York_

She didn't realize it when she opened her eyes.

The room around her lacked any source of light and appeared to have no windows. She was covered by something heavy and the aches of her body told her she'd been still for too long. She breathed heavily, the air whistling past her parched throat uncomfortably.

She started to speak, to call for someone, anyone, but all that came out was a painful croak. Suddenly, to her left, a lamp clicked on and she was briefly blinded. When the residual spots cleared she could see her partner sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her with an unreadable face. He picked up a bottle of water and unscrewed it before handing it to her. She drank gratefully, not even trying to sit up yet.

She set the water aside and spoke carefully. "What time is it?"

"Almost three a.m. You've been out for about fifteen hours."

"Where are we?" She reached for his hand, using his strength to leverage herself into sitting up, sliding her legs off the bed.

"The apartment of Warren Worthington III. Very swank," Bishop noted with a small smile.

Rogue nodded. "Where's Warren?"

"Asleep. Eventually Sage is going to have to allow him to wake in order to avoid physical damage."

"We need to get rid of him for a while," Rogue explained, closing her eyes tightly as her head pounded right behind them. "He's got family in Britain, tell Sage to send him there. Implant a suggestion that he feels the need to be surrounded by family for a while."

Bishop nodded slowly, studying her closely. "What's so important about him?"

Rogue smiled, though it was tempered by pain. "Not him, this place. Have you looked out the windows?"

"Yes."

"Did you notice what establishment is within clear view from this high altitude?"

Bishop nodded slowly, seeing very clearly where she was going. "The Hellfire Club."

Rogue stood, placing her hand on Bishop's shoulder to support herself. "You, Pulse, and Sage are going to monitor the Club. With Sage's skills, you should be able to hack the security system and gather information. To go up against them, we're going to need reconnaissance, a lot of it. Cameras, baseline security, mutant security, schedules. Sage knows some of it already, but not all of it. She doesn't know the location of the virus; presumably, he's only shared that information with his White Queen or the Black Queen."

"While we're doing that, what are you going to be doing?"

Rogue walked slowly to the closest wall, pulling back the heavy curtains to reveal the darkness on the other side. This high up the only light came from the sky and the other skyscrapers. She sighed before speaking. "I'll be taking care of Dr. Essex."

"Alone?"

"No."

"With who?"

"That's classified."

Bishop snorted in derision but remained sitting, despite his clear agitation. "You once told me there's no 'classified' between partners."

"Then tell me what Captain Stryker told you right before we left," Rogue retorted, turning her enigmatic eyes on her 'partner'. "I've been able to feel your apprehension since that meeting, but you haven't said anything."

Bishop stood and moved to the door, pausing just before he opened it. "That's classified."

* * *

_Bayville_

The mansion was asleep, the students in their respective beds and the adults content in their own rooms. The silence that had once seemed soothing now seemed full of unspoken tension. Even with Rogue and her companions' departure, the tension remained, long into the night.

The clock in the main hall rang out three times, the sound echoing down the hall and reaching Kitty's ears easily through her door. She was not asleep, and knew she wouldn't be able to close her eyes without seeing Beast's death again and again in her dreams.

Grumbling under her breath, she turned to her side and shoved one of her hands under her pillow, accidentally sliding her cold fingers along the smooth glass of the medicinal vial there.

The vial Rogue had given her.

Professor Xavier and Magneto had arrived just after Rogue had left, asking questions like if she was alright, if she was comfortable having someone examine her from the Bayville Hospital, if she needed anything.

All she'd needed was quiet, time to cope, and maybe a stiff drink.

Now she couldn't sleep, though. She couldn't get the image of Beast falling to the floor out of her head, or the feeling of thick blood spattering across her face. She couldn't forget the surprise on his face, or the pain on Rogue's.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, Kitty pulled the small vial from under her pillow. Rogue had told her to inject it as soon as possible, but with everyone running around the mansion she hadn't had the time.

She hadn't told anyone about the cure. She feared that if she did, they'd take it from her. They'd want to see if they could duplicate it, and there was a chance that they'd take long enough trying that her "infection" could kill her.

Kitty didn't want to die.

The hardwood floor was cold under her feet, but she didn't feel it. Her insides were colder than she ever recalled feeling, blocking out most of the emotions she knew intellectually she should be feeling. The only thing that was really coming through that numb wall inside her was...self-preservation. She didn't want to die.

Kitty walked through the halls of her home, not trying to hide her presence or her intent. There was no need, everyone else she presumed was asleep. She was alone in this wakeful state of anxiety, and for once she was glad of it.

The ride down to the medical lab, the "scene of the crime" if you will, made the knot in her stomach clench tighter.

Before this situation had spun out of control, indeed, before Rogue had gone missing, Beast had begun training Kitty to act as a medic/nurse in case of emergencies. She knew where all the supplies were, and what to do with most of it.

It was with ease, her mind cast back into that first lesson with him, that she withdrew a sterile needle from the supply room, moving back into the examination room for better light to work with.

Her mind was surprisingly empty as she moved about the room where Beast had died hours before. Since she was right-handed, she cleaned the inside of her left elbow and prepared it for injection. Kitty gave only brief thought to the image she presented as she tied the tourniquet around her arm, and a tingle of fear wriggled its way through her carefully constructed inner defenses and planted itself in her subconscious.

She opened the sterile package that held the syringe.

Kitty pushed the sharp point past the rubber stopper of Rogue's vial and pulled the cure into the syringe, watching it fill the small object silently. She had no idea how much she was supposed to inject, but there wasn't much in the vial to begin with. In the end, all of it fit in the syringe, which she supposed was the intention.

One dose of the cure, for one person.

She hesitated, the needle poised to plunge into her fair unmarked skin. For a second, she hesitated, her mind frozen as it tried to grapple with what she was doing. Rogue's words, Xavier's words, even Piotr's words all mingled in her mind.

She was a hero, a mutant, and a person.

She winced as the needle broke through and the cure entered her bloodstream.

It felt like betrayal.

* * *

He didn't have many things to pack, all of it fit into his battered leather knapsack.

For some reason that made Gambit feel weary, to see all his worldly belongings crammed into the small bag. The tools of his trade, various lock-picks, his uniform, and his bo-staff all were hidden on his person but the bag was full of other things he felt he needed. Civilian clothing, personal toiletries, and hidden in the bottom of the bag, photographs of his family.

A family it was likely he would never be allowed to see again.

Remy looked around his temporary rooms in Xavier's mansion and realized with a small start, he would miss this place. There was no edge of danger here, no thrill to be found just in being there. He'd lived so long with one foot out the door, the other one in quicksand that he'd forgotten what it feels like to be "safe."

The mirror above the dresser reflected back his normal charming exterior, button up shirt and jeans effectively hiding his uniform, and his beat-up duster to cover it all. His clothes hid the scars, and the wiry muscles, but nothing could hide the defensiveness that always bent his shoulders, nor the wariness that hooded his eyes.

He was a fighter, pure and simple, brute force given human form and hired out by his family because most of the time they didn't know what to do with him. The very people who were supposed to love him and didn't realize just how much they hurt him.

Remy smiled, a quirk of the lips more than twisted with bitterness.

Though he didn't know anything about his parentage, being abandoned at the tender age of three months would do that to a person, Remy wondered if there was some gypsy blood in him. How else could you explain his overwhelming need to be moving, at all times? The idea of settling down, of owning a house, having a family of his own, was uncomfortable for him, if not out and out terrifying.

The idea of settling, period, terrified him.

Maybe it was just the idea of his past catching up with him. He'd done things, terrible things, and sometimes he knew that someone was looking for him. Someone with vengeance (or maybe justice) on their mind.

There was a good chance one of those people would be Dr. Essex, or as he called himself now Mr. Sinister.

Remy picked up his bag and tore his gaze from the mirror.

He was prepared to enter the lion's den, to walk into great danger with the intent of walking out again.

Something in Rogue, something that was also in him, gave him the courage to do so.

He paused at the door, his reflection in the mirror doing the same.

She called to him, his own personal siren, exciting emotions in him he'd thought long suppressed.

He supposed that even a month ago, when she'd been younger, more vulnerable, and had a chip on her shoulder, she'd called to him.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Now, though, her call was stronger.

Irresistible.


	25. Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue

**Chapter 25: Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue (Has Anybody Seen My Girl?)**

* * *

_Day 36_

_New York City, New York_

Jean Grey was a compassionate person. It was not just her telepathy that made her so; her compassion was an actual part of her personality. She was, by her very nature, a good person.

As she let herself into her parents' home in the city, she didn't feel like a good person.

As much as she wanted to help her teammates, as much as she wanted to ease their pain and grief, in the end it was too much for her. After hours spent tossing and turning, their negative emotions slamming at the walls of her telepathy, Jean had finally ceded the battle and left.

Scott, of course, slept through her troubles and would more than likely be hurt when he woke to find a hastily written note in place of herself, but she would deal with that later.

The sun was just rising on the horizon, providing just enough light that Jean didn't need to turn on any lamps as she walked through the small house. Her parents had bought the home on the outskirts of New York City just after Jean had made the decision to move to the Institute, wanting a place nearby for visits and so that she'd have somewhere to go when she went into the city.

During the few summers that she'd been at the institute, she'd spend most of the three months here, with her mother. Her father would come up on weekends and the three of them would use the home as a base of operations, visiting all the museums and tourist traps of New York.

Jean's smile weakened as she listened to the silence of the empty rooms.

Her parents would not be coming this summer. All the trouble with Rogue, and then with the Hellfire Club, had convinced Jean that perhaps it would be best if they remained at home, in Connecticut.

It didn't stop her from missing them.

It also didn't stop her from moping around the stale home and wishing she'd ignored her instincts and had asked them to stay instead of to go.

The sudden clang of the doorbell, so early in the morning and unexpected, startled Jean out of her melancholy. Unconsciously her telepathy reached out, seeking the identity of the bell-ringer, only to encounter...nothing.

Even if no one had been standing on the other side of the front door, Jean would have felt something. She'd have felt the vibrations of other minds echoing through the air, perhaps even shadows of the thoughts of those that'd stood there before.

Instead, she felt nothing.

No thought, no echoes, no static.

Jean felt fear rise within her, but she fought to push it back.

What kind of villain rings the doorbell, after all?

It was with some trepidation that Jean moved to the door, one hand reaching for the doorknob, but the other wrapped around her communicator, her thumb on the panic button.

The woman on the other side was impeccably and expensively dressed. Her eyes were dark, dark enough that Jean was unable to tell the difference between her pupils and her irises.

They were also very, very fascinating. In fact, Jean couldn't take her eyes away.

She was so consumed by the deep unending color of the stranger's eyes that she almost didn't hear her speak.

"Good morning, Jean. I am Selene."

* * *

_Costa Verde, California_

"Took you long enough_, chere_."

Rogue smiled to herself as she shut the front door behind her. "I decided against teleporting and took a plane. Figured you'd want the extra time to snoop around."

Gambit chuckled huskily in the darkness of the front entryway, the only light coming from the lit cigarette in his mouth, which flared brighter as he inhaled deeply. "Remy knows everyt'ing he needs to."

Rogue set her bag down on the foyer table and reached for the small switch just beside the living room doorway. In a rush of sound the blinds covering the bank of windows opened and blinding sunlight flooded the room, a small portion of it reaching the foyer as well. Gambit squinted his eyes against the light and exhaled the gray smoke smoothly.

Rogue smiled at him slightly and commented in a purposely soft voice, "Do you realize that when you're trying to be charming your accent becomes thicker?"

Gambit's eyes hardened and he pushed off the far wall to stalk to her side. As he moved closer, he pushed up the sleeve on his right arm, revealing the address still displayed there. "Remy here now, you remove the ink, _oui_?"

Rogue nodded and turned her eyes to the tattoo she'd used an imprinted power to place there. She wrapped her fingers, long, slightly cool fingers, around his wrist. Together, they watched as the ink faded, leaving no trace of the tattoo ever having been there.

"Dat's an interesting power, _chere_. Where you get it?"

Rogue shrugged. "I've got a lot of powers you've never seen."

Gambit's eyes slid from his now bare forearm to lock onto her lips. "You show me your's, I show you mine."

Rogue grinned and pressed her hand against his chest, pushing him away. "We're here to work together, not to play together."

Gambit shrugged. "Wha's a little work wit' no play?"

"Serious business, that's what," Rogue answered with no hesitation. She walked past him and into the sunlit living room, grabbing her bag as she did so. "You said you know where Essex is and that you'll take me to him. Live up to your promise, Gambit. Where is he?"

Gambit took one last long drag from his cigarette before putting it out under his heel. "Gambit knows where he _was_. Don't know whether he's still there."

Rogue shrugged and pulled out a small computer from her bag. "Neither I nor Tessa have been able to catch even a telepathic trace of the guy, so anything helps."

"Where are your...esteemed companions?" Gambit asked, his voice sly but cool.

Rogue hesitated, her green-grey eyes sliding over to meet his. "You said alone. Here I am, alone."

Gambit grinned, all charm and dimples. "Didn' think you'd actually listen, _bien-aimée_. You don't seem the type."

Rogue glared at him. "I'm trying to save the world. That's the only 'type' I am." Suddenly, her glare softened. "Just why did you want me alone, anyways?"

Gambit licked his bottom lip and took the seat across from her. "Why does any man ever want a woman alone?"

Rogue smiled and turned her piercing grey-green eyes away from his mesmerizing red-on-black ones. "What do you want to ask me?"

Gambit licked his lips unconsciously, his eyes studying her face. "Why do you need me to take you to Essex? Can' you jus'," he waved his hand in the air vaguely, "summon the knowledge from my memories?"

Rogue stared at him unseeingly for several moments before opening the laptop and turning her attention to it. "It doesn't work like that."

Gambit pushed the laptop shut with his fingers; almost catching hers in the keyboard as he did so. "Then explain how it works."

"Did you know that when you're serious you have almost no accent at all?" Rogue inquired in a deliberate change of subject.

"Answer the question."

She only smiled a little as she leaned back into the chair. "The only way I can safely access the abilities I've imprinted is to remove the emotional aspect of them. The personalities, the memories; they must be taken away for me to have control. Otherwise, as you have witnessed, they try to take over."

"So you have my abilities, but not the memories?" Gambit inquired softly, his real thoughts on the matter kept entirely to himself.

Rogue smiled bitterly. "They're there; I just can't access them anymore. It's like...cold storage. With enough effort I could get to them, I could use them, remember them, but it comes with enough significant risk that it's not worth it."

Gambit nodded slowly and leaned back in his own chair. "It's... _difficile_ to not have control, Rogue. To know what power you have, but not be able to harness it."

Rogue's eyes sparkled with malice. "And what would you know about it, Gambit? The smooth-talking, card-throwing conman? _Avec un coeur d'or_?" She asked mockingly, clearly put on the defensive by the too intimate conversation regarding her powers.

He grinned at her, but the irritation her words fostered in him made it more an aggressive baring of teeth than a smile. "I know lack of control. _Je le sais bien._" Gambit stood quickly, startling Rogue whose fingers sparked with power at his sudden movements. Gambit had already become lost in his thoughts and didn't notice her instinctive call for weaponry.

He paced restlessly, his long overcoat moving around him gracefully as his thoughts roiled around his face. For several minutes he did this, moving back and forth as he debated something in his head, something that clearly was causing him angst.

Rogue debated whether or not to use telepathy to just take whatever knowledge he was arguing himself over telling her. In the end, however, she found she did not want to invade his mind, and would rather wait for him to make his own decision.

Finally, Gambit stopped pacing and turned to her. "Dr. Nathaniel Essex, better known to mutantkind as Mr. Sinister, is really a doctor. He's also a mutant. I met him through a mutual acquaintance in New Orleans, a man called LeBeau." Gambit grinned quickly and shark-sharp and answered her question before she could ask it. "No relation. Just an old man, fond of gin, who always seems to know too much. When my powers manifested, he was there to help clean up the mess I left. He's the one who told me about Sinister."

"What happened when your powers manifested, Gam-...Remy?" Rogue asked softly, her body leaning forward as she found the urge to comfort him. There was pain in his eyes, old pain dulled by time, but pain nonetheless.

His jaw clenched and it seemed to take him a lot of effort to force the words through his lips. "I had no control. Everything I touched would become charged. The poker cards in my hands, exploded, burning and shocking me. I pushed back from the table, and it charged, sending my friends, my brother, flying back into the walls, hurt and bleeding. I moved to the door, pushing it open, and it too charged, sending shards of wood shooting through the crowd in the bar. Again and again I tried to leave, to escape the strange violence of it all." His words seemingly came faster and faster until finally he took a deep breath and stopped. "It was me. I realized after countless injuries, thousands of dollars in damage. It was me."

Rogue started to speak, her mouth already open to spew platitudes, to reassure him that none of it had truly been his fault, but Gambit wasn't done yet.

"There was a man outside the bar, a cop who heard the screams and the explosions and came running in. He'd thought I was hurt, thought he should help me..." His voice trailed off and his eyes closed and Rogue knew without peaking into his thoughts that he was reliving the next few minutes of that night in his head. It wasn't hard to figure out what happened.

"You charged him. Not his clothes, or his watch, or his badge. You charged _him_," Rogue said slowly, standing and moving to his side instantly. You didn't need to be an empath to feel the waves of pain that rolled off of him.

"When it was over and done, I passed out. When I woke up I was on the floor in the back of the bar, in a locked room. LeBeau was there, watching me. He didn't say anything to me about what happened. Just handed me a piece of paper with an address and a name on it. Dr. Nathan Milbury, 318 Chartres Street. French Quarter, my favorite stompin' grounds, yet I'd never even seen that building before. The good Doctor," Gambit said mockingly as he continued to speak, his eyes still glazed over as he was lost in his thoughts, "helped me with my control. In return, I was indebted to him. He had...jobs for me. Things I had to do to pay him back. One of the last jobs I did for him was go work for Magneto. Report back as to what Magneto, and by extension, Dr. Charles Xavier were doing." Gambit smiled bitterly. "It was supposed to be my last job for him."

"Who is Dr. Nathan Milbury?" Rogue asked, though she had a good suspicion as to the answer.

"Dr. Nathan Milbury is Dr. Nathaniel Essex is Mr. Sinister," Gambit replied matter-of-factly.

Rogue nodded slowly but could no longer resist the urge to comfort. Her fingers trembled as she brushed them along the harsh leather of his sleeve, sliding them lower until there was the barest brush of her skin against his. "Was it worth it?"

Gambit knew she didn't ask this question just for him, but for herself as well. He gave the only answer he knew. "Yes. It was worth it."

Rogue smiled to herself before stepping back from Gambit. The words that she began to speak surprised even her. After all, neither of them had come here to play confidante. "Before I came back here, the last person that I imprinted I killed. Carol Danvers, 36 days ago. While Bishop and I trained, I refused to imprint anyone ever again. I've broken that promise a couple times in the last couple days."

Gambit stared at her steadily, his eyes seeing too deeply into her own psyche for comfort. "You have new abilities, though. I've seen them."

Rogue shrugged. "We found a way around it."

* * *

_Day 36615_

_Bayville, New York_

The physical training is easy; Rogue has been doing a variation of the routine they put her through for well over a year with the X-Men. She's stronger than your average seventeen year old girl, more skilled in various martial arts than most Marines, and has a keen intellect that makes fighting her a constant surprise.

It's her mental training that is becoming increasingly difficult.

"We need to examine how your ability works, Rogue. We can't do that if you won't allow us a practical demonstration," Elisabeth "Call-me-Betsy" Braddock stated slowly, as if Rogue were either hard of hearing or dense.

"The last person I touched, I killed. You'll understand if I'm not eager to do it again," Rogue said saccharinely as she mopped at her sweat-covered face with a towel. Bishop grinned at her and tossed a cold bottle of water to her before opening one for himself.

"Bishop, back me up here. She needs mental _and _physical training," Betsy cajoled him, turning lavender eyes onto his with hopes that her beauty might sway him to her side.

She obviously didn't know Bishop very well.

"It's her decision, Ms. Braddock. She doesn't want to demonstrate, she doesn't have to."

"Your superiors have a differing opinion," Betsy replied smartly, turning sharp eyes back to Rogue.

"Besides," Rogue interjected, "I already know how my imprinting works. The professor figured that out a long time ago."

"I highly doubt the primitive technology of the twenty first century could identify all factors of the process."

Rogue shrugged and smiled amusedly, "It's relatively simple. Through skin to skin contact I remove and adapt the portion of mutant DNA that has the X-gene and graft it onto my own. Most of the time the graft is temporary. The memories and personality comes from the exchange itself, not the actual graft. It has to do with the small trace of telepathy tied into my ability."

Bishop's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he stepped closer as he cocked his head to stare at her as if she'd suddenly developed a very interesting facial feature. "You're a telepath?"

Rogue shrugged and began to remove the sparring gloves from her hands, though she retained the thin nylon ones that covered her arms. "Not in the traditional sense. It only works in the way that it takes the knowledge of how to use the powers I'm taking. As a consequence I get personality and memories. Professor Xavier gave some thought to trying to stop the mental exchange, but the few times we tried that I had absolutely no control over the abilities I took and," she paused for dramatic effect, "the resulting outburst of power was bad. I don't think Storm ever got all the blue fur out of the carpet."

Logan chuckled roughly from the door, startling the three occupants. "She didn't, but after you disappeared she stopped trying."

Rogue's face lit up at the sight of her who she considered her only friend in this time. "Logan!"

Without a word he opened his arms and Rogue flew to them, a small giggle slipping out as he easily lifted her off the ground. The very visible affection between the two had Betsy shifting her feet uncomfortably and Bishop glancing away. His superiors had done all they could to keep the former X-Men apart after Rogue's move to X.S.E. Headquarters.

In fact, his superiors had done their damnedest to make sure no one knew, and would ever find out, that Rogue was here. The file under which all information gathered about their time traveler was labeled top secret; no other branches of government had access to it.

"Surprising to see you here, Logan," Bishop said blandly, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Hard to get an appointment," Logan replied just as blandly, his eyes not as mirthy as they were aggressive.

Bishop shrugged and glanced meaningfully at Elisabeth Braddock, where she stood next to him. Logan understood the implication and kept his real opinions of the situation to himself, at least he would until Betsy was gone.

With an almost animalistic grin, Logan introduced himself to the attractive British woman. "I'm Logan."

She smiled back, and for a second mirrored Logan's primal twinkle in her own eyes, but within seconds Bishop was sure he'd imagined it. "I'm Elisabeth, but you can call me Betsy."

Rogue explained the situation. "Betsy is a telepath. She's here because Bishop's 'superiors' want to know how my powers work. I just got done explaining what the Professor found out."

Logan started to ask why the X.S.E. Board of Directors thought it was their business, but Betsy quickly spoke up. "And you've actually given me an idea, Rogue." The group turned to her and listened as she started to explain. Betsy smiled to herself as she realized that for the first time since she'd walked into the room they were actually paying serious attention to her. She struggled to remain stoic in an attempt to translate their silent curiosity into respect for her.

"You said your ability works in that it grafts alien, well at least to you, DNA onto your own. As a reaction, you develop that person's mutant powers, if they have any, and telepathically pull knowledge and personality from their minds. My question for you is have you ever had a blood transfusion?"

Rogue blinked in surprise, she hadn't been expecting that question (or any question at all). "No," she responded automatically. She stumbled as her mind raced over her past to try and remember if her instinctual response was wrong. "I've been hurt and hospitalized quite a few times, but I never lost any blood or needed a transfusion. Usually I'd just imprint Logan," whom she shot a grateful glance, "and healed myself up."

Betsy smiled in pleasure as her mind explored the possibilities of an idea percolating in her head. "I believe, unsubstantiated, that a blood transfer might do the same thing skin-to-skin does. The DNA from the blood would be imprinted onto your own, without any of the messy personality and memory transfer."

Bishop was already shaking his head. "She just told us that without the telepathic transfer, she can't control the abilities she takes."

Betsy, if possible, smiled broader. "And I heard her, but I have a solution for that as well, I think. The transfer is telepathic by nature, right? Well," she held her arms out and gestured to herself, "you're looking at a telepath! I believe I can remove the knowledge of how to use the abilities by the donor and implant them in Rogue's head. That takes away the emotional problems and uncontrollability."

Logan remained silent but admitted to himself that he was intrigued. Professor Xavier would surely never have taken such an out-of-the-box approach to it.

Rogue was less silent.

"So...I could use my power...without hurting anyone?" Her face seemed to brighten as the idea of it dawned on her. "That sounds...really nice." She finished quietly, ducking her head and unconsciously lacing her gloved hand with Logan's.

Betsy started thinking out the mechanics of the situation, still speaking but now more to herself than any of them. "Then there's the question of what to do with the abilities she's already imprinted. I suppose the same process could be applied to them, but that's an extensive undergoing and I'm not sure any telepath we have on staff would be capable of doing it..."

Bishop and Logan watched in amusement as Betsy proceeded to walk and talk herself right out the door, leaving the trio behind to discuss this new possibility of a "cure" for Rogue's problem, and the new complications rapidly arising in their future.

"She's...interesting," Logan noted to Bishop, ignoring the too silent form of Rogue beside him. Without paying much attention to either of them, Rogue glared down at the dark gloves covering her bare skin, rubbing her fingers together just to here the rough catch of cloth on cloth.

"I'd rather have Jean on this case, but unfortunately my superiors disagreed," Bishop explained as he removed his sparring gloves and threw them on a side table. "Surprised to see you here; you're not on the approved list."

"Since when did some silly little list stop me from doing or going somewhere?" Logan asked with another animalistic grin, popping his claws with a sharp sound and startling Rogue out of her reverie.

"List? For what?"

"To even get into X.S.E. Headquarters," Bishop explained. "Logan's been banned ever since he had an "argument" with the Board of Directors over the direction the organization was heading. They still haven't gotten the claw marks out of the walls."

Logan added with a small chuckle. "Not all of them were mine. Laura gives as good as she gets."

"Laura? Is she one of the Directors?" Rogue asked as she stepped away from Logan, realizing just how far into his comfort zone she'd treaded (and just how much of her own she'd ignored).

Bishop grinned maliciously. "Yeah, she's the head Director. She's also Logan's _daughter_."

Logan bit back a grin at the shock on Rogue's face. "Technically, she's a clone." He turned a mean look promising retribution for Bishop later. "And it's not like it's a big surprise, Lucas. Rogue has met Laura before."

"I have?"

"Yeah, but I think we were still calling her X-23 at the time."

* * *

_Day 36_

_New York City, New York_

"I'm bored."

"Get over it."

"Very bored."

"It's called a stake-out."

"Incredibly bored."

"Read a book."

"I'm so bored; I think I can literally feel the cells in my body dying."

"If you don't shut up, you're gonna feel something dying and it's gonna be a bit more widespread than _cells_."

"Bishop?"

The much larger mutant looked away from the monitor long enough to glare at his "bored" partner. "What?" He asked through grinding teeth, tired of having this conversation over and over again in the hours they'd both been sitting there.

"When is Sage coming back?"

"When she's done installing surveillance camera hardware around the Club," Bishop replied in a slightly less grating tone. Even he had to admit that the waiting was wearing on him. Rogue had left almost 24 hours before, and without her there as a buffer, he and Pulse tended to conflict terribly.

That probably had to do with the fact that for most of their relationship, up until Rogue had come into their lives, they'd remained firmly on opposite sides of the law.

Even as Bishop spoke, the monitor before him bloomed to life, several different angles and feeds all directed at the Hellfire Club appearing simultaneously. "Speak of the devil," Bishop muttered ironically as he systematically began checking on all connections and systems of the laptop.

Pulse pushed himself off of the bed where he'd flopped himself over an hour before. "Up and running, then? So...Sage'll be home soon?"

Bishop froze in mid-type and turned a mocking, eyebrow quirking look on the younger mutant. "Do you have a crush on Sage, Gus?"

Pulse grinned and shrugged. "Well...she's a pleather-clad hottie with cold, dominatrix ways...and you're a cranky, uptight, hand-cuff loving older black man." He paused for dramatic effect. "Whose company would you prefer?"

Bishop turned back to the screen. "Good point," he replied with a grin before freezing once more, this time in bad way. "What..."

"What's wrong?"

Bishop shook his head slightly. "I thought I just saw something."

"Saw what?" Pulse asked as he invaded Bishop's personal space and shoved his face over the man's shoulder and close to the monitor.

"A flash of red..."

* * *

Much love to my awesome beta, SkyRogue! She rawks my chapter's socks, she does, she does.

**Translation:**

_Bien-aimée_ beloved

_Difficile_ difficult

_Avec un coeur d'or?_ With a heart of gold?

_Je le sais bien._ I know it well.

And from previous chapters, though I'd think it obvious...

_meine Schwester_ my sister.

_chère_ dear, beloved (though literally it means 'expensive')

* * *


	26. Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence

**Chapter 26: Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence**

_Day 36_

_Costa Verde, California_

"Whose home is dis, _chère_?"

Rogue looked up from the laptop on which she'd been typing furiously. "It's mine."

Gambit turned from where he'd been studying the artwork on the walls (very expensive Impressionist pieces) and stared at her incredulously. "It's yours?"

Rogue smiled and licked her lips as she stood and stretched, her back muscles cramped up from being bent over her computer for so long. "In every way that matters. It belongs to my adoptive mother, Irene Adler. She always told me that it was available for when I'd need it."

"Available for when you need it?" Gambit repeated, no sign of accent as he mimicked her words with a questioning lilt.

"Irene was precognitive. She was always saying strange things like that," Rogue explained fondly. "I'm betting that if we explore this house we'd find several things that we're going to need for our mission, along with little notes she's fond of leaving to unnerve us."

"_Vraiment_?"

"Yes, really."

Gambit seemed almost excited at the prospect. "Then why are we no' explorin', _chère_?"

"Because I've been busy researching the names and addresses you gave me," Rogue replied as she walked past him. Gambit grinned and followed her down the hall and into the kitchen, the smile fading as she headed to the fridge. She turned her head just enough so that he could see her arrogant smile as she pulled a small Post-It from the sleek metal exterior of the refrigerator door and tossed it to him.

As Rogue opened the door and began to pull out the makings for sandwiches, Gambit caught and read the small note.

"_Rogue and Gambit,_

_Your favorite foods have been delivered. Enjoy._

_Love,_

_Irene_

_P.S. No, Rogue, I did not supply Rocky Road ice cream. Have him take you out for ice cream."_

"Take you out for ice cream?"

Rogue looked up from where she quickly put together ham and cheese sandwiches for him and her and laughed quietly. "I love Rocky Road ice cream. She deliberately didn't put any in the house."

Gambit crumpled the note and tossed it with unerringly accuracy into the garbage can across the room before sliding into the bar stool directly across the island counter from Rogue. "Why?"

Rogue smiled coquettishly. "She may be a precog, Gambit, but she's still my mother. She likes you."

He shrugged and reached for his sandwich, still not grasping the full implications of the note. "Most women do, _chère_."

Rogue rolled her eyes and fought the urge to smack the obtuse Cajun upside the head. "She's playing matchmaker, Gambit."

He froze mid-bite, before grinning broadly and turning flirtatious eyes onto her. "Even yo' mama approves, _chère_. What say we do away with all this pretendin' we aren' attracted and give in to our animal urges?"

Rogue licked her lips slowly and leaned across the counter, her face hovering only inches from his. His darkly dangerous eyes sparked at her and his lips curved upward automatically. His every sense was reaching for her even as his fingers dropped his meal back onto the plate and slid across the counter toward hers.

Rogue's smile turned from flirtatious to condescending in a second and she used her superior strength to send him flying off his chair and onto the floor. "It's not pretending, Gambit." As she laughed deeply at his sprawled position, even she felt the note of dishonesty that tainted the statement. True, it wasn't pretending, she was leaning far closer to _ignoring_ than pretending.

"Besides," she continued as she returned to her sandwich, "Irene was in love with Mystique. Her judgment is, at the very least, suspect."

* * *

_New York City, New York_

"I thought I saw something, but I guess it was just my imagination."

"Lucas Bishop, X.S.E. Officer extraordinaire, admitting that maybe he imagined something? I am shocked," Pulse said delightfully as he teased his companion mercilessly.

"I maintain that I saw something, I'm just changing my statement to say that it was nothing," Bishop replied quietly, his eyes still intent on the screens. "Go see if Sage has returned yet."

Pulse knew an order when he heard it and shrugged as he left. Bishop waited until he was gone before he rewound the video file to the very beginning and watched again. There was a flash of red just at the corner of the screen when the stream from the cameras had first connected. A long-haired redhead was entering the Hellfire Club, her face obscured by the camera angle. There was something terribly familiar about the way the woman was carrying herself, however.

Bishop froze one of the frames of the stranger and went to work on increasing the sharpness as he zoomed in. He didn't know why he was so interested in the Hellfire's newest prey, but there was something almost...foreboding about it. There was a tension to his work, as if there was a lot more on the line of knowing who that was than he knew.

"The X-Men aren't going to be pleased," Sage announced as she closed the front door behind her with a soft click. Pulse raised an eyebrow inquiringly but didn't say anything. He gestured for her to precede him into the bedroom where he and Bishop set up the monitoring station.

"Aren't going to be pleased about what?" Bishop asked quietly, turning from his ministrations on the computer to watch Sage sidle into the room.

Her smile was glacial as she nodded to the monitor behind him where a program was buzzing quietly as it sharpened the snapshot of the anonymous redhead. "Jean Grey, Professor Xavier's protégé, courting with the Black Queen."

Bishop's mouth didn't quite fall open, but it did a likeable impression as he turned back around in time to see a perfect profile of the young telepath form clearly on the screen. "That's unexpected."

Sage nodded and moved closer so that she could lean over Bishop's shoulder and point to the tall brunette at Jean's side. "That's Selene, the Black Queen."

Pulse leaned over Bishop's other shoulder, purring lightly into the air in an exaggerated fashion. "I love a woman who knows her way around a leather cat-suit."

"That's not real leather," Sage replied as she glared at him.

"Looks leather."

"It's human skin."

Pulse reeled backwards. "Did I say love? I think I meant like. Heavily like, but just _like_. In fact, I could do without."

Bishop smothered a smile and with a few deft keystrokes resumed the live feed. "Tell me more about the Black Queen."

Sage slipped into the seat beside him and began to speak, her calm but calculating voice soothing the sudden tension in the room. "Selene is a mutant, just like Shaw, but unlike Shaw she's," Sage paused as if struggling to find the words, "branched out. She sometimes calls herself a 'Daughter of the Moon', sometimes a 'sorceress'. Very little is actually known about her, with the exception of the fact that she's been with the Hellfire Club since the very beginning. As in, centuries ago. She's always been present at some incarnation of it, never aging, never changing."

Bishop nodded, not shocked by the existence of such a being. "She's an External."

Sage's eyes widened. "An External?"

Pulse pulled himself to a sitting position on top of the dresser and explained dryly. "Particularly nasty breed of mutant. Very hard to kill, very slow to age, big pain in the ass. Wolverine is one."

Bishop nodded. "We've encountered a few in our time. I don't recall Selene, though; the Hellfire Club is pretty much ancient history in my time."

Sage smiled and this time it was warm and brought an uncomfortable feeling to Bishop's chest. "Hopefully she's dead and gone and I had a hand in it." She shook her head slightly at the thought she even now doubted could ever come true before continuing her explanation. "Selene has numerous abilities, and no one knows which one was her true mutation. She's telepathic and telekinetic; she has complete control of all inanimate objects, and incalculable magical abilities. One of which is the ability to steal life energy and souls. She uses the life energy to keep herself young looking. When she over-projects herself in battles her true age begins to show."

"When has the Hellfire Club done battle?" Bishop asked, turning to the computer and drawing up a blank document. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he began to organize his thoughts into a report for his superiors.

Sage's smile faded and she sighed. "Our current enemy may be the X-Men, but there are always wars to be fought, Bishop. The New York Branch of the Hellfire Club has done battle with the barbarian necromancer Kulan Gath, the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, pretty much every group of Do-Gooders in the world has come at us with everything they've got and we're still standing."

Bishop's fingers paused as he turned sharp eyes to Sage. "_Us_?"

Sage stiffened as she realized her slip. "Them."

Pulse had closed his eyes as if to rest but slid one of them open to study the silent battle of wills going on. He sighed and slid off the dresser, pacing heavily as restlessness boiled within his body. He was unused to spending so long in one place with little to do.

In the future Pulse was a loner who spent his days admiring his recent acquisitions, his recent lovers, or making plans to acquire new versions of both. Rather than steal for the money or even the thrill, Pulse was a thief because it was the only thing he knew how to be. He had no family, no friends to speak of; all he had was 'the game'. The plans that consumed his mind as he sought avenues into the most secure of structures, and the adrenaline rush of heated aftermath that had him seeking out female company.

Pulse sighed and clenched his fists as they began to itch from inactivity and turned to the duo still staring intently into each other's eyes. "This is getting us nowhere."

Bishop broke eye contact to glance over at Pulse. "You're right, for once. Though all this information is interesting, it has no bearing on our current mission. Jean Grey's presence in the Hellfire Club is none of our concern."

"It might be," Sage interjected quietly. She leaned forward to gesture to the live feed of the front doors. "Selene often keeps her plans secret from the rest of the Hellfire Club. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage."

"How so?"

"Rogue told him that I was in Bayville at the mansion with Xavier. Selene bringing Jean Grey into the Club is another tie back there. If I were to suddenly return to the Hellfire Club, I could say that I was assisting Selene in isolating Jean for possible recruitment," Sage explained as she stood and moved to the window. She stared down on the small building, her body tense as she continued. "Shaw wouldn't ask Selene about it because that would be admitting that he didn't have as solid control over his Queen as everyone believes."

"You were in Bayville with us, how will you explain getting away?" Pulse asked, uncomfortably reminded of his own abandonment and eventual escape.

"I'll say that she took me to the mansion to use me as a witness, but once it became clear that the X-Men weren't going to help her she released me," Sage murmured as she clearly started to think too deeply about her plan to pay attention to the two men.

"That sounds improbable," Bishop derided, "why would they believe that?"

Sage's attention snapped back into the here and now and with a look of determination she turned to him. "Because Rogue is an X-Man, even if she is a," Sage smirked at the pun, "rogue one. Releasing me is the sort of ambivalent action they would expect from people they presume to be children, even mutant children. The White Queen believes herself to be a better telepath than me, so a few errant 'thoughts' supporting my story and it'll be accepted."

"I thought the White Queen was one of the best telepaths in the world, second only to-" Pulse started only to be interrupted by Sage again.

"Xavier and Jean Grey, yes. It doesn't take a lot of skill to read minds," Sage explained, "it does take tremendous skill however to build shields strong enough to prevent anything of that sort. Xavier wanted a spy, one that was secure in every way. He trained me well, so well that even _he_ can't read my mind without permission."

Bishop stood and crossed his arms as he glowered at her. His emotions were easily read from his face even if he wasn't broadcasting disapproval over the psychic plane as if from a loudspeaker. "I don't like it, but it seems we have a plan."

Pulse stopped pacing long enough to gape at them. "I could have sworn Rogue said something about waiting for her to get back before making any moves. You know, 'observe', and all that?"

Bishop shrugged, turning to stare down at Pulse. "Best way to observe is from the inside."

"Well, yeah, but it's still really dangerous. Rogue...she's kind of our heaviest hitter, you know? The one who rides in to save the day?"

Bishop smirked. "She can't be in two places at once, and we can't afford to wait. Don't worry, Gus," Bishop wrapped his hand around the smaller man's shoulder. "If anything goes wrong, I'll save you."

Sage smiled slightly as she slipped past the male bonding moment to retrieve her Hellfire uniform from the bedroom down the hall. She could almost hear Pulse swallow heavily before he whispered theatrically, "Bishop, no offense, but you're not a busty brunette in spandex. I'd rather be saved by Rogue."

* * *

_Day 36645_

_Bayville, New York_

His body was stiff from remaining in the same place for so long and though he forced his heart to remain in a steady rhythm, his mind made up for the forced placidity by racing through his plan again and again, determining the variables and how they might affect him.

He was a thief and no matter the discomfort, he always walked home with the prize.

There were usually officers all over the building, crawling through every room in pursuit of various tasks. Pulse, however, had chosen this late time for a reason. Close enough to the late night shift change that any patrolling security would be down in the locker room preparing to leave and that anyone arriving would be there waiting to punch in. Since it was night there weren't as many people wandering around, which worked purely to his benefit.

Using his fingernails Pulse slowly pried open the vent slats until he could see into the room below clearly. He concentrated for a few seconds and his eyes began to glow slightly. One by one the lights in the room shut off starting with those closest to him. In the darkness of the room the sole security camera blinked red obstinately for several seconds before it too succumbed to his mutant power and lost power.

Pulse pushed at the vent roughly and sent it flying to the floor with a loud clang. He pushed himself out of the tight vent headfirst and through a fit of skill managed to turn himself midair and avoid a concussion. Moving quickly in the dark Pulse fixed the room so that no one would know he'd exited the ventilation system there.

He pressed himself against the frame of the door and listened for any foot traffic outside the door. After hearing nothing for several minutes he pulled the door open and walked out brazenly. It was one of the oldest "tricks" in the book; act like you belong there and people will believe you do.

It helped, though, that he was wearing a X.S.E. uniform.

Normally this type of intrusion into a government building wasn't something Pulse would attempt. The government had a habit of 'shoot first, shoot some more, and eventually ask questions' kind of approach to intruders and Pulse had a healthy appreciation for his skin that meant he'd like to keep it hole-free.

Still, when he'd first started receiving information about the X.S.E.'s latest "Top Secret" project, he'd known he couldn't resist. _Project Marvel_ was covered up by the most layers of security he'd ever seen, and even after cracking the firewalls and decryptions the most the world's best computer hackers could get was a location. A room number within one of the most heavily armed mutant bunkers of the world.

A mysterious benefactor had paid a hefty sum just to find out what it was that was being hidden within these walls. The money was already in his accounts, now Pulse need only glean the information. There was no better way to secure that information than to steal the project itself. Not only was it the best way to accomplish his latest commission, but it was an excellent opportunity to double his intake. If his client just wanted information about the project, there was a good chance that whoever it was would also pay a good price for the project itself.

At least, that's what the greedy little bastard inside him hoped.

With a quick glance at his watch Pulse realized he had only five minutes before the hall patrols resumed. With a small smile to the clump of scientists walking past, faces drawn and worn from too many late nights, all with a large "M" tattoo over their right eyes declaring them mutant, Pulse hurried down the hall. He was already on the correct floor having made sure to place his exit point from the ventilation system as close as possible to the mysterious room number where _Project Marvel _was encased.

His eyes stared menacingly at each camera he passed, the light glow of his power taking the power from them so that his face would never make it onto any digital file. Within seconds of leaving the sight of anyone within the halls he was running, his eyes still glowing with power and glancing at the numbers as he passed.

As he moved further and further into the building, his access to the numerous escape routes dwindling with each step, he muttered the numbers under his breath, a bad habit but one he'd never been able to discipline out.

"_713_, _714_, _716_, _717_," he panted into the silent air, before jarring to a stop without warning. His eyes shined as he retraced his steps, freezing between the doorways to rooms _714_ and _716_. The wall was smooth, with no pockmarks or electronic paraphernalia to indicate that a door had ever been there.

A half-smile slid across his face as he ran nylon-gloved fingers down the smooth wall. "Tricky, tricky, tricky," he muttered under his breath as he moved to room _716_ and opened the door. His eyes brightened as he glanced around the room, taking in the desks and computers and the walls, his power amped up high enough that it was only the glow of it that illuminated the room. It was simply a room, however, with no hidden depths to be plundered.

As Pulse shut the door behind him and reentered the hall he again glanced at his watch. He had only one minute before the new shift of guards, with their fresh eyes and endless energy, would be reestablishing their hold on the building.

Pulse opened the door of _714 _and stepped in quickly, his eyes, his power, immediately sliding around the room. As his gaze reached the far wall a door shimmered into sight, the electronic illusion collapsing under the cessation of power. A large grin spread across his face as he softly shut the door behind him, crossing to the new door quickly. In the same lettering that decorated all the other doors he'd passed, the numbers _715_ shined in the dim glow of his power.

The door was locked, to be expected, and with the ease of a professional Pulse removed his tool set and went about opening it. Outside the door he could hear the rhythmic footsteps of guards as they moved through the building, making sure all exits were secure. Once that was done, they would begin checking the rooms themselves, starting on the bottom floor and making their way up. Once that routine had finished, it would start over. Again and again the guards would move through the building, randomizing their movements throughout the night until the morning when a new shift of guards would come and take over, doing the same thing.

It wasn't a bad security outfit, especially considering that not only were the mutant guards well-armed and trained, but also had various abilities. Add in the self will and ability to change the routes and checks, the guards were the best security the X.S.E. had.

That was mostly likely why it was so very easy for him to break the security on the door and enter the most secret room within the building.

In the sudden rush of adrenaline and excitement that followed his breakthrough made him careless, however. As he opened the door and stepped through he overlooked the most basic of alarms...a trip-wire attached to the door, entirely physical in nature and not affected by his abilities. As the door pressed inward, against the wire, it stretched taut and many floors below a small bell rang delicately just above X.S.E. Officer Lucas Bishop's desk.

Within seconds he was running up the stairs, his gun sliding into his hand with ease.

Pulse wasn't aware of his impending capture and moved further into the room with excitement. The door opened onto a small landing that overlooked what appeared to be living quarters. There were no computers, no laboratories, nothing that Pulse had come here expecting. His excitement dimmed with his confusion and his brow furrowed as he moved to the small set of stairs.

The room was dimmed, the only light emanated from a small lamp on a bedside table. For being a secret cell deep within the utilitarian headquarters of a mutant police force, the room was surprisingly opulent. A plush couch in deep red was in the center of the room, with a matching sitting chair and the accompanying "living area" accoutrements; a television, entertainment hard drive, hidden surround sound speakers in the walls. In the far corner a small kitchenette could be seen, bare essentials only.

In the opposite corner a large curtain sectioned off the bed, only the very end of the frame visible. It was from there that the light came from and Pulse moved towards it without being able to stop himself. Where was the research, the valuable project that was making waves in the criminal underworld?

Pulse pulled back the curtain and found his breath stalled in his throat.

It was a girl, just a mutant girl who slept peacefully on unaware that the slavering wolves of greed were scratching at her door.

A sound at the door had him ducking beside her bed, the curtain sliding back into place. Pounding steps echoed through the silent room and the girl began to stir. With a silent curse, Pulse forced power through his mind and slid his hand across her mouth, yanking her out of the bed and in front of him the new intruder ground to a halt just in front of the curtain.

Pulse stood slowly, his eyes providing more than enough light to recognize the man holding the gun pointed in his direction. "Hello, Bishop."

"Pulse," the dark man said quietly, his eyes seeking confirmation that Rogue was not hurt physically. "Let her go."

"I've been paid good money to figure out what she is," Pulse said slowly, "I can give that money back very easily, if you let me go."

"You're a criminal, the only place you're going is jail," Bishop replied, stepping forward threateningly.

"If you're going to be like that," Pulse replied with a step back, dragging Rogue with him, "I'm not going to be able to play nice." Rogue was wide awake by then, her green eyes dazed but aware of the situation. If not for the sheer shock of someone else's skin on hers, a sensation she'd felt only in fleeting chances, Rogue could have used her hand-to-hand experience to knock Pulse off and allow Bishop the chance to capture a notorious thief. As it was, it was all she could do not to faint, and the buzzing at her temples told her that it was still a distinct chance.

"You don't carry weapons, Pulse," Bishop started, forcing his voice to be calm and soothing. "It offends your moral code and endangers your own life, so you told _Mutant Weekly_ in that recent interview." Bishop grinned. "Very cheeky, to give an interview only days after breaking into the Louvre."

Pulse nodded his head in his best approximation of a bow. "Mentioned you by name."

"My superiors loved that," Bishop agreed with some sarcasm before abruptly switching back to the point. "She's nothing special, just a friend I'm helping out. Let her go."

"A friend with Level Ten security wrapped around her?" Pulse scoffed and maintained his easy camaraderie even though the cold concrete of the wall was against his back.

"You can't escape, Pulse, not now. You're trapped," Bishop said gravely, "so don't make this situation any worse."

"I've broken into X.S.E. Headquarters, Bishop," Pulse replied savagely, a very sudden turn to his easy words of before. "I'm looking at twenty years, easy. Why not have a little fun before I go?"

"Please..."

Pulse froze at the soft voice that whispered from the soft body he held against him. "What?" He didn't know why he was so shocked that she could speak, but when she turned gorgeous eyes onto his own he found even that one word was a struggle to voice.

"Please."

For some reason he couldn't fathom, Pulse listened. He removed his fingers from her throat and his hand from around her waist and let her step away and into Bishop's arms. At the door, several of the very guards he'd sought to avoid had found the open door and investigated, deducing the situation with seconds and moving to back Bishop up.

Within minutes Pulse was restrained and being removed from the room, but her voice followed him up the stairs as he was forced to exit.

"He touched me."

* * *

_Day 36_

_Bayville, New York_

He had returned in the early night, only the small trace of brimstone that wafted through her open window alerting her to his presence. He didn't move from where he'd first appeared, didn't speak or seek any of them out.

Not that her 'brothers' knew he was there. As usual they remained oblivious to all but the obvious. Wanda sat on her windowsill in the deep night, almost wishing that she had the courage to be a friend to him and to climb to the roof and offer comfort. He was clearly hurting, his feelings and his pride damaged by betrayal of the closest kind.

Though she didn't know why, she almost felt that they were kin in that emotion. Thinking about it, however, only gave her blinding migraines. Toad and Quicksilver insisted that she leave that avenue of thinking alone and she listened, if only because she wasn't entirely sure why she would feel betrayed in the first place.

Sometimes, like tonight, when the decrepit house was in rare silence and she had the will to force herself to examine her mind past just her surface thoughts, it almost felt like there was another person living within her. Not a stranger, but almost like a different version of herself; a dark, bitter version of herself that sometimes surfaced in battle and made her harsher in her actions than she'd like.

A soft scuffle above drew her attention and Wanda's eyes drifted upward though she knew she could not see Nightcrawler where he sat on the peak of the roof. The scuffle continued, drawing closer until almost languidly the small blue spade at the end of his tail became visible just over the edge of the roof. It was all the proof of his presence he would give.

Just as she silently supported him in his grief, not knowing the cause or the reason he would come here for his comfort, Wanda almost intuited that he was doing the same for her.

Why he cared was something of a mystery for both of them.

* * *

Translation:

_Vraiment?_ Really?

* * *

Author's Note: This is un-beta'd so any mistakes here in (spelling, grammar, OOC-ness) are my own. You can mention them to me and I might endeavor to fix them, but if you're snitty about it I'm more likely to reply snarkishly.

That being said...reviews feed me. FEED THE AUTHOR. FEED THE AUTHOR!

* * *


	27. Seven Cards From Now

_Author's Note: I know it's been a while. The problem is...I've lost my muse for this story. So while I have a clear picture of how I want it to end, I know I'm a good twenty chapters from being there. I don't know when I'll update, but I will. If I have to force myself to write it, I will get you updates. I swear._

* * *

**Chapter 27: Seven Cards From Now**

* * *

_Day 36_

_New York City, New York_

The leather was cold to the touch even after she'd wrapped it around her warm skin. Instead of her body warming the cloth, it chilled her. Sage wasn't foolish enough to imagine that the sensation was real; she was imagining it. She was imagining that the feel of this uniform was sickening on her skin. This disguise wouldn't become a part of her again, not as it had for so many years. Having seen that there was another way to help the world, seen it with her own eyes, Sage didn't know if she could go back to being a spy again.

The Hellfire uniform was a mask, one that didn't sit well on her face. Her discomfort felt crystal clear to her and she wondered briefly if Emma would be able to pull that feeling from her mind. Sage was a great blocker, but Emma was a very good telepath.

The doors to the Hellfire Club loomed above her and she paused. Bishop and Pulse were watching through the small newly installed camera across the street and she knew they would notice her hesitation. Should she, could she, go through with this? The explanation for her reappearance was shaky at best and the decision to try was questionable. In their desperation to try and micromanage every aspect of the mission were they committing a mistake?

Would she be a casualty of that mistake?

Doubt could be a deadly emotion and Sage was familiar with it. Professor Xavier had used her doubt to manipulate her into taking a position with Sebastian Shaw as his assistant and he continued to use that doubt over the years to his advantage. Her doubt that she could do anything more than spy to help better the world, doubt that she herself was good enough to be the instrument of good he'd trained his X-Men to be.

Sage was tired of doubting herself.

Sage was tired.

Lifting a gloved hand she knocked on the door strongly, pulling "Tessa" to the surface of her face with the ease of an old habit. As she waited for one of the numerous faceless peons to open the door and re-admit her to this life, Sage did so with a false sense of calmness. When lies are all you've known, they can become a sort of truth.

* * *

_Costa Verde, California_

"You've lived an interestin' life, Rogue."

Rogue snorted her amusement at Gambit's random observation, but continued to study the map on the screen of her laptop. "I'm a mutant, Gambit. What did you expect? Picket fences and prom dates?" Rogue shook her head and slid him a skeptical look. "It was more like picket lines and comatose crushes."

Gambit ignored her derision and continued to study the line of photographs on the living room wall. Starting at the age of two, the line of procession from toddler to teenager was clear. It was also very clear that Rogue was the girl in those photos. Even without the prominent white streak of hair Gambit would have recognized those green eyes anywhere. The edge of danger and mischief had always been prevalent in the gaze. "You were a happy child," he noted.

"I was a manipulated child, a manipulated teenager, and a manipulated adult. I've lived with lies my entire life," Rogue explained, her fingers flying over the keyboard with expert skill.

"But you were a happy child," Gambit reiterated. "Not all children are happy."

Rogue's fingers froze. "Some children don't have homes or people to lie to them," she said with sudden intuition. She turned in the sofa to look at him more fully. "Some don't have anything but the streets and a strong sense of survival."

"What's a little manipulation compared the feeling of hunger, _chère_?" He asked, deliberately keeping his voice soft and apathetic. His gloves were designed so that some fingers were covered and some weren't, and the covered ones slid across the glass of the frame easily, while the bare ones skidded roughly. He pulled the picture from the wall and tossed it to Rogue. Without looking he knew she'd caught it, her instincts as good as his.

She was only ten in the picture, missing a tooth in the front of her mouth but grinning despite it. Her hair was longer than Gambit could remember having ever seen it, curling in the summer air as she was caught forever in mid-swing at a park. There was an air of recklessness about her, one that still haunted her today. A child with nothing on her mind but the feeling of flying and the way it made her stomach feel.

When Gambit had been ten the only feeling his stomach had was of cramping. Not even his infamous charm could get him fed all the time, nor could his slippery fingers. Born with the devil's eyes in a town built on superstitions; Gambit had been born to a hard world. He was a hard man doing a hard job for hard reasons. Though he and Rogue were alike in so many ways, in the most important way they weren't.

Rogue smiled at the picture, remembering how she'd teased Irene that the picture would be off. How could a blind woman take a good picture? Her mother, for that was what Irene had been, knew what she was doing. Rogue wondered if her gift for Sight had come into play somehow and helped her. "That was the summer when she and Mystique started to tell me of my 'skin condition' and how I needed to cover up all the time and not let people touch me." Rogue paused and turned back around in her seat, smiling bitterly. "I used to love the sun. The feel of it on my skin, the taste of it. Even when it was bitter cold, as long as the sun was out I was happy. Not after that summer, though. No more shorts, no more tank tops, no more playing in the neighborhood pool."

Gambit listened without speaking, studying the next picture in the succession. Rogue had gone from a golden, happy pre-teen, to a sullen, gothic teenager. From an open smile to a surly pout, but her eyes were still the same. Still dangerous, still full of questions, but the tone of mischief had changed to sadness. Again his fingers skidded and slid across the frame. The sudden silence of the room echoed the rough scrape of his fingers.

"Remy used to t'ink that you were t'e same as him, but you're not," Gambit said suddenly, turning from the wall and walking quickly across the room. He slid in front of her, pushing her laptop aside and sitting down. Gesturing down to the picture, he continued. "I'm a hard man, hard all the way down. You're hard, too, but not the same way. You're hard to protect your softness inside." He ran a finger, gloved, down her face until the warm appendage hovered over her heart. "For all talk and your walk, you're not the same as me. You can't do the job like I can."

Rogue smacked his finger away and moved to stand. "You don't know what you're talking about," she started, only to have him grabbed her arms and pull her back down before she'd even fully stood.

"I know exactly what I'm talking about. You can pretend all you want with the X-Men, that you're someone new, someone hard and ready to do anything, but you're not. Everyone has a line, Rogue, you just haven't hit yours yet," Gambit explained, forcing his voice lower and calmer than before.

"Where's your line, Gambit?" Rogue taunted, unsettled by the feel of his hands on her arms where he'd yet to release her. Even knowing that she could summon up enough strength to crush him like he was no more than an eggshell, the feeling of his strength holding her there made the urge to flee rise in her.

"I crossed my line a long time ago, _chère_," Gambit replied immediately. "Mr. Sinister is dangerous. Very dangerous. If he can he'll push you across that line and watch you fall. Even if we do find him, and it's no guarantee, there is even less of a chance we can stop him. He plays it close to the chest and has no problems with killing people who get in his way."

"I'm dealt with his kind before," Rogue retorted sharply, straining against his arms until he slid his hands down her arms and clasped her hands.

"No, you haven't," Gambit reassured her. "Magneto, for all his threats, would never kill another mutant if he didn't have to. You're his kind, his people, and he wants to protect mutantkind at his core, not kill them. Mr. Sinister doesn't care if you're a mutant, only cares about what you can do for him. I escaped him, but it was luck; pure goddamned luck. Don't drag me back there to him if you're going to hit a line you can't cross."

Rogue glared at him but finally grasped what he was trying to tell her. "You're afraid of him."

"If you'd seen the things I had, you would be too," he replied, unintentionally squeezing her fingers as his eyes went distant and his mind soared back through his memories.

"I'm not afraid of anyone," Rogue replied with a smirk.

Gambit's gaze sharpened and he gnashed his teeth at her. "You will be."

"Why are you doing this?" She asked suddenly, holding his hands just as tightly as he held hers. "Why?"

"I can find him alone. I'll get what you want, and you never have to go near him," Gambit said quietly, pulling his eyes from hers and staring down at their joined hands. "He wouldn't even have to know you were involved."

"I don't work like that," Rogue said harshly. "I don't let my partners walk into danger alone, with no one to back them up."

"We're not partners, Rogue," he retorted just as harshly. "I'm a tool you're using to complete your mission, anyway you can. Let me be your tool. Let me do this for you."

"You're not something to be used, Gambit, anymore than I am. I won't treat you as expendable-"

"The way you treated everyone else? Dr. McCoy?" He interrupted with a bark of laughter that subsided almost immediately.

Rogue closed down, her face shuttering closed almost visibly. "I'm not letting you walk in there alone."

"I don't want you walking in there at all," Gambit replied with a small smile.

"If you didn't intend to help me, why'd you even agree to come here?"

"Maybe to get you alone, to make you see reason. I don't care how dangerous that damn virus is, it's not worth your life."

"It's worth yours, though?"

"You're an X-Man, I'm a thief, it doesn't even compare!" Gambit shouted, before pulling his hands from hers and moving across the room to pace. "I once saw him open a mutant from neck to sternum, alive with no anesthetic. He loves new things to play with, that's all you'd be to him."

"I don't intend to get captured, Gambit," Rogue explained as she stood and moved to stand in front of him, halting his nervous pacing.

"You don't intend to do a lot of things that end up happening. You can't control everything!"

"Neither can you! You will not stop me from going after him!" They were inches from each other now, anger over the situation quickly spirally out of control. "I don't even know why you care!"

Gambit's eyes shone with an inner light, making him appear very much almost demonic in his contemplation of her face. When he bent down and pressed his lips to hers, lips that immediately went from a hard line to a soft pucker, Rogue could do nothing but give in.

She remembered this feeling, him against her. Months ago, for her, when she'd absorbed him in the Acolyte base; she'd savored this feeling somewhere deep under Mesmero's control. The slight rasp of his stubble on her cheeks, the small cleft in his generous bottom lip, the taste of tobacco and peppermint that was uniquely him.

Though it only lasted a second, it shook her to the core.

Rearing back out of his reach, her hand flew out and smacked him with all her natural strength. "I didn't come here to be mauled by you. We have a job to do. I don't know how we went from having a normal conversation during lunch to you freaking out over Sinister to you kissing me, but it needs to stop," Rogue said in a rush, turning from him. She was unwilling to let him see how that little kiss had rattled her. "I'm a professional and I've a job to do. If you're not going to assist me, then get out."

They were silent for a few minutes; the only sound their labored breathing and the soft sound of Gambit rubbing his hand on his reddened cheek. Rogue closed her eyes and forced her breathing to calm; the small orbs in her mind had worked themselves into frenzy during the argument and had started a pounding in her temples.

"You make me feel protective, _chère_," Gambit said quietly, apologetically. She could feel him step close, the heat of him bathing her back. "Remy don't know why, but you do. Looked for you for weeks, went through your room, your past. You coming back don't change the way I feel."

She didn't want to ask, but in this new intimate atmosphere she couldn't stop herself. "How do you feel?"

"Like you need someone to protect you. The X-Men weren't doing a very good job of it, and your new friends from the future aren't either."

"I'm one of the most powerful mutants in the world, but you think I need protection?" She asked with a small smile.

Gambit carefully laid his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. Though she still smiled her amusement, his face was deadly serious. "You're broken. You think whatever happened to you in the future fixed you, but the edges of you are still grating together."

Rogue's smile faded. "Why do you think you know me?"

"I'm broken, too."

* * *

_New York City, New York_

"She released me on the provision that I pass along a message."

There was a problem.

"Rogue has no wish to tarry with the Hellfire Club any longer, she's gotten what she wants, the mutant Fitzroy. She won't interfere with us if we agree to not interfere with her."

"Interfere with her, how?"

Sage shrugged and tore her eyes from the very big problem sitting across the room and looked at her former boss. "I do not know. They did not discuss anything in front of me."

Sebastian Shaw turned his dark eyes to the Emma Frost. Without speaking, some unseen signal, he nodded and returned his gaze to Sage. "Do you have any new information I need to know, Tessa?"

"Her team is no longer in New York. I heard in their minds the intent to leave the city, though I don't know where. They're not going to be in contact with the X-Men any longer," she explained, fighting the urge to return her stare to the only other occupant of the room besides the three of them. Said occupant had yet to speak and Sage was more than concerned by the woman's presence.

"That's good," Shaw said immediately, gesturing to Jean Grey. Garbed in the traditional uniform of the Inner Circle, Jean sat quietly, her gaze vacant. Instead of the black or white that was normal, she wore a bright vibrant red. It complimented her skin tone but made her seem almost ethereally separated from reality. "As you can see we're implemented one of our long term plans earlier than we intended. Rogue's assault on the Club provoked it. Now that's she seems to be out of play, there is no reason not to continue."

Sage nodded and reached for her laptop. "Are plans in place to bring in the remaining X-Men?"

Emma's hand whipped out and wrapped around Sage's wrist. "That's unnecessary, Tessa. We've arranged everything already."

Sage didn't attempt to pull from Emma's hold, instead turning her gaze to Shaw. "You still don't trust me."

"No," he answered simply.

"Expected," she replied curtly. "I've been in enemy hands for too long to expect immediate trust. Will Emma be examining my mind? I will open my shields."

"Unnecessary," Shaw answered in the same placid tone of the entire conversation. "She has skimmed your thoughts and believes you in what you say. We both know that mutants can be tricky, however, so complete disclosure will have to wait until we can be sure that Rogue didn't leave any nasty tricks waiting to activate itself within your highly capable mind."

Sage nodded slowly, before continuing. "When did Selene bring in Miss Grey?"

Shaw startled and his gaze flew to Emma's before turning back to Sage. "How did you know that it was Selene who did it?"

Sage explained calmly. "I called her when I knew I was released. I was still in Bayville and she asked me to place an imperative in Jean's distracted mind. It was a small urge, barely noticeable. If she hadn't been so distracted by her grief over Dr. McCoy's death she would have easily noticed it."

"You put the idea of leaving the mansion in Jean's mind?" Emma asked, moving until she stood behind Shaw and could stare at Sage fully.

"Yes."

"Selene did not tell us," Shaw noted quietly, his gaze lowering to the table as thoughts spun round and round in his head. Sage didn't doubt that Emma was in there with him, both of them toying with what it could mean that Selene would keep that information from him.

Sage knew what the small lie would do to the relationships between the trio of power-hungry mutants. Selene's off-handed use of Shaw's trusted employee would put the man on edge, and when he was on edge so was Emma. The fact that Selene had not informed him of Tessa's impending return would be seen as an attempt to sever the trust between Tessa and Shaw. He wouldn't confront the Black Queen, however, but would take action to watch her more closely and not allow her to interfere. Emma would assume that Selene didn't think her as capable as Tessa, and her jealousy would stew. Again, there would be no confrontation but behind the scenes scheming. Emma was already jealous of Tessa's platonic friendship with Shaw, the idea that Selene also felt Tessa more capable would set the cool blonde seething.

Selene would, of course, have no idea that anything had happened. There was enough telepathic shielding going around that no one would be any wiser to what one another was thinking unless they actively lowered their shielding, as Shaw and Emma were doing at the moment.

Sage had confidence in her ability to play the Inner Circle. They would not discover her manipulation, at least not until it was too late. Shaw would accept her back into his trust, Emma would continue her distrustful view of Tessa, and Selene would look to her as below interest, still just something to be used and thrown away.

Back to the same old, same old.

* * *

_Costa Verde, California_

"I've got a hit on the name." Her voice echoed through the room even though she'd barely whispered. Gambit stirred from his position at the window and turned to stare at her in the dark.

After their confrontation and subsequent confession, they'd remained in silence. She'd worked on finding Mr. Sinister, and Gambit had worked to repress the sudden surge of emotion that had led to him losing control. The sun had set in the meantime, the shadows growing longer until only a dim twilight illuminated the elegant room. In the dark Gambit's eyes almost glowed, a side effect of his mutancy giving him their odd coloring and great night vision.

Rogue ran her hands through her hair, ruffling the short fluff in weariness as she stretched and cracked her back. Sighing slightly, she turned the screen so that he could see it from his position across the room. "There's a warehouse in Los Angeles registered to Nathanial Essex. There are no city licenses assigned to it, according to the files it's just a vacant building. From what you've said, though, I doubt that very much."

"You're tired," he observed as he moved from the window to a seat next to her. "We'll wait until morning."

"We don't have time to wait until morning," Rogue argued.

"We don't have time for you to screw up and get us captured," Gambit argued back. "I'm tired, too. We'll rest and then go."

Rogue told herself that it was because he spoke the truth, and only the truth, that she agreed. "If you're tired I don't want you screwing up, either, so..."

He grinned suddenly. "So?"

"We'll wait until morning," she finished with a small huff of disappointment. "There are bedrooms upstairs, pick one and bunk down. Be ready to go at six."

"Just pick a room, _chère_," Gambit drawled, "any room?"

Rogue froze mid-step out of the room. She didn't turn to respond. "Any room except my room."

"You wound me, chère."

"Sneak into my room, and I really will."

She couldn't quite stop the smile that curved her lips, however.


	28. Eight Days a Week

**Chapter 28: Eight Days A Week**

* * *

_Day 37_

_Bayville, New York_

The mansion was almost unnaturally quiet, the polar opposite of a usual morning in a house full of teenagers. Breakfast was somber, no one meeting anyone else's gaze as they all mechanically forced oatmeal and toast down their throats. There was no fighting over the last glass of orange juice or who got to use the butter and cinnamon first. There was no squabbling over who sat next to each other, or loud voices as everyone fought to speak over one another.

It was all Scott could do to sit through the meal, a forced smile on his face as he answered Ororo's questions monosyllabically. She questioned Jean's lack of presence and he explained the note he'd found, using more than one word for the first time all morning.

"She went to her parents' house in New York," Scott explained, lowering his voice so none of the other students could hear him. "Couldn't handle all the emotions. After breakfast I'm going to pack a small bag and go join her. See if I can help."

Ororo nodded sagely and reached over to pat his hand where it rested on the tabletop. "Give her our love and tell her we're here if she needs us."

Scott smiled grimly and forced the last bite of breakfast down his throat and it might as well have been sawdust for all the enjoyment he took from the act. It was just another façade, one he put in place so that Ororo wouldn't realize how her efforts on breakfast had been wasted on the grieving group.

It took him only minutes to pack some of his clothes and he waved goodbye to the few teenagers lingering in the foyer as he made his way to the garage. His car gleamed scarlet in the slight sunlight slicing across the garage from the open doorway and unconsciously he smiled. That car was his one and only vice, a machine of perfectly tuned mechanical prowess that he babied like it was his child. Even Jean made fun of him for the care he took of it.

Seconds later, speeding through the cool air and heading towards the city Scott knew it was worth it. For the duration of his drive he wasn't thinking about Dr. McCoy's death or Jean's abandonment, for that's what it felt like. He wasn't thinking of his responsibility to help the lost children he was leaving at the mansion or the slight guilt that gnawed in his stomach as he placed Jean's grief above theirs. He was thinking only of how good the sun felt and the slight tingle in his stomach as his speed rocketed.

He never saw the black Lexus that pulled onto the road behind him and quickly caught up. He didn't see the darkly tinted windows that glinted ominously in the sun. He had only seconds to experience a rush of fear and adrenaline before the car slammed his bumper and sent him careening off the road and into a strand of trees.

* * *

_Los Angeles, California_

With the sun barely risen in the sky the shadows on the ground were long and dark, perfect for hiding and watching from. Rogue pressed herself tightly against the ledge of the rooftop she'd chosen for reconnaissance and waited for Gambit to join her. He used his bo-staff to jump from one rooftop to the other; they'd both agreed that approaching on street level would be foolish.

Leaving their Yamaha motorcycles, a gift from Irene that they'd found in the garage as they'd prepared to leave, Rogue had taken to the sky while Gambit found a fire escape to ascend with. As he gave his best impression of a grasshopper across the business district rooftops, Rogue used Jean's telepathy to lift herself across several blocks in seconds and drop onto a roof directly across from Mr. Sinister's registered warehouse. Rogue had chosen the telepathy, a bit more taxing than some of the other flight abilities she harnessed, on the idea that Nathaniel Essex was obsessive about security. Using Storm's control of wind or Magneto's of magnetism might have tipped the mutant doctor off to their presence. She and Gambit had agreed that the longer the good doctor was unaware of their presence the better.

The building she observed was nondescript, in the extreme. Plain brick, opaque windows, and absolutely no signs proclaiming ownership or inhabitants; it took a keen eye to notice the pristine and fairly new cameras that were mounted in discreet locations, ensuring no blind spot by skilled placement. The door was securely made, with no outside access readily apparent. Someone on the inside would have to open the door for someone to enter.

Gambit dropped down beside her, breathing only slightly heavier than usual as he grinned over at her. "See anyt'ing you like, _chère_?"

Rogue's lips curved an answering smile and shrugged. "Whoever did security on this place is highly trained and experienced; it's got better security than Fort Knox."

"Gambit ever tell you he broke into Fort Knox?" Gambit said softly, pulling small binoculars from a hidden pocket of his uniform and starting to study the building as well.

"Every thief claims to have broken into Fort Knox," Rogue retorted, accessing Wolverine's keen senses to try and get a new perspective on the situation. Her eyesight immediately sharpened, taking in details that had been too far away to see before. Her nostrils flared as the scent of cigarette smoke and cologne slammed into her senses. With some struggle, she couldn't help but enjoy the scent, Rogue pushed down her awareness of Gambit and focused on the building opposite. "I've yet to see or hear any proof of it."

Gambit smiled broadly. "Remind Gambit to show you his gol' bar, _chère_, should we ever make it to N'awlins."

"That better not be a euphemism, Gambit," Rogue said with a smirk as she turned from the building and slid out of sight of the building. "I'm catching a lot of different scents coming and going, some of them repeating regularly and each time bringing an accompanying scent with them, the new scents don't seem to leave."

Gambit followed her change of subject and her move away from the ledge. He replaced his binoculars in whatever pocket he'd pulled them from and hitched an eyebrow at Rogue's statement. "Translation?"

Rogue rolled her eyes and explained. "People are going in and not coming out. Three exceptions are coming and going pretty much as they please, probably working for Sinister. I don't think we're going to be able to get through that security, especially not if he's got as many cameras on the inside as he does on the outside. I can use multiple abilities at once, but I don't think it's a good idea here. It exhausts me and there's always a chance I could have a seizure."

Gambit's eyes turned serious as he studied her, nodding to himself as he concluded something to himself, though exactly what he didn't say. "You go' any ideas, Rogue?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I've some ideas but they're still percolating. You?"

Rogue didn't like the smile that suddenly curved his lips, or the devious glint in his dark eyes. "_Oui_, but you'd have to trust me, _mon __coquine_."

"How much trust?"

"You fond o' handcuffs, _chère_?"

* * *

_Day 36646_

_Bayville, New York_

"...he's a threat and you're asking me to ask my superiors, who'll likely throw me in the clink for even suggesting it, to let him go with a slap on the wrist? Just so you can use him in your little experiment!?"

They didn't know she could hear them.

"He's a null, a very specialized one, and he's already demonstrated a connection with Rogue. We can use that connection to ease the transition for her," Betsy stressed, her voice quiet but intense. Bishop had no qualms about volume, however, and it was his booming incredulous replies that had gotten Rogue's attention.

She pressed her ear to the wall and listened closely. Since she'd started to assimilate Carol Danvers' personality and abilities her senses had become keener. She could hear the conversation through the brick and mortar wall surprisingly easy.

"He's one of the most wanted thieves on the planet. Arresting him was a big deal for X.S.E. It's already gone public that we have him in custody! We can't erase that. The public will want an answer for this," Bishop said calmly.

Rogue could almost see Betsy's devious smile, she could certainly hear it in the smug tone of her next statement. "We'll give them an answer; it just won't be the real one. It'll be disappointed, but not truly unexpected when the world's greatest thief escapes from custody."

"You're asking me," Bishop's voice had gone very quiet, Rogue could barely hear him, "to betray every oath I've ever taken, to disobey the law and the loyalty I've spent years defending, for what?"

Betsy rushed in to fill the silence. "Rogue needs to heal, she's still very fragile. I've heard what's coming down the pipeline direct from your superiors and you're going to need her at full strength."

"There's been no proof that the event is linked to her."

"It originates at the exact coordinates where she exited the continuum and is slowly spreading into the future towards her. All variables are pointing to her. If we don't prepare her for the battle that's coming..." Betsy let the statement trail off, but her implications were clear, even through the wall to Rogue. "We have six months to get ready. At least three of those need to be dedicated to retraining her to X.S.E. specifications, that's one of the conditions of their sending her back with you. We have three months to get her powers under control."

"And you think we need Pulse to do that," Bishop stated.

"I think we're going to need all the help we can get."

* * *

It wasn't a bad view.

It could, quite possibly, be the best view that Rogue had had in a long time.

She might even have appreciated it had the position she been in not made her temples pound and her vision swim with vertigo. She hadn't woken up this morning intending to be slung over Gambit's shoulder like a sack of potatoes and spend an uncomfortable amount of time staring at his very shapely derriere but that was the position she found herself in.

The metal of handcuffs he'd had readily handy, with more than a little smirk, chafed her wrists and Rogue almost wished she was wearing gloves to ease the sensation. The ruse they'd created on-the-spot was shaky but she was willing to bet it'd at least get them inside the warehouse. From there it would take more skill than planning; Gambit didn't know the floor plans and they weren't on file anywhere.

"Ease up a little, _mon __chère_, you're supposed to be unconscious," Gambit said under his breath as he carried her closer to the entrance to Mr. Sinister's lair. Rogue dutifully relaxed her body and felt him hold her tighter to compensate. "Maybe we need to do some more recon before we-"

"There's no time, Gambit," Rogue interrupted, her voice muffled by the folds of his trench coat. "We have to do this now. There's only a month where this can be prevented and it's already almost been a week. I'm running out of time."

Gambit paused for only a second, his gait interrupted by the hesitation and jarring her from the comfortable place she'd developed on his shoulder. "Don't you mean 'we', _chère_?"

Rogue bit her tongue and didn't reply, though it took a lot of willpower to do so. Her own guilt and doubt were gnawing inside and she didn't care to find out what new rage and scorn would spill from her lips if provoked.

She'd like to think that she'd always been this angry inside. The gothic clothing and dark make-up had all seemed to point in that direction, but the truth was that Rogue hadn't known how dark and all consuming rage could be until her and Carol Danvers' personalities had started to merge. As they became one a terrible penchant for self-hatred and rage had been born within her and no amount of therapy with Betsy could seem to curb it. With the telepath's help, though, Rogue had learned to channel it; she focused it on training for this mission, and now on carrying it out.

It didn't stop the burn of those emotions as they sliced through her, though, and the scars that were left behind.

"What story are you going to tell Essex?" Rogue asked, turning their attention away from her Freudian slip and back to the task at hand.

"You'll see, _chère_," Gambit assured, petting her leg slightly, and she was sure, unconsciously.

"Wouldn't it make more sense if both of us knew and were prepared for it?"

"_Oui_, but tha's no fun! Live a li'l, Rogue-y."

"If you call me 'Rogue-y' ever again, I'll castrate you. With a spork," Rogue threatened, her entire body stiffening up as she grew indignant with the nickname.

"Okay," Gambit replied lightly, deliberately not fighting her on the nickname issue. He couldn't know that the variation on her name brought back memories of her first weeks with the X-Men, when they were still getting to know each other. Evan had thought calling her 'Rogue-y' was absolutely brilliant, especially when he'd found out how much it irritated her.

They walked in silence for several minutes before Rogue spoke again. "I'm sorry."

"For wha'?"

"Snapping at you. It's just...that name makes me think of things I shouldn't be thinking of," she explained, her fingers dancing lightly across the small of his back. She forced herself to relax them, to not move her body deliberately in any way. They were close enough to Essex's building that it was a good bet he was watching.

"Gambit is getting used to your mouth, Rogue," he replied and even without seeing she knew he was grinning. "It's a nice mouth, even when it's biting me."

Rogue smiled against his back since she knew the cameras couldn't see the movement. "I haven't even started biting at you yet."

Gambit chuckled lightly to himself but Rogue could feel the way his body was growing tense. His hand gripped her thigh tightly and she knew he didn't realize how close to third base he was getting with her prone body. The smile slid from her face and she opened her other senses since sight was blocked to her. The wind carried a trace of salt in it, barreling off the ocean and slicing through the city easily. The burn of the sun on her back was soothed by the chill from that wind and Rogue found herself pulled between the two contrasts. The soft battered leather of Gambit's jacket was soothing to her skin, but the hard muscle beneath gave her no cushion to relax on. As good a view as being over his shoulder gave her, it didn't make breathing very easy what with his shoulder being pressed tightly into her stomach.

Gambit's steps slowed as they neared the door and she felt his steadying breath. His voice was low and she knew his lips didn't move, when he warned her, "Here we go, _chère_."

The concrete in front of Essex's stronghold felt just as broken and rough as the concrete walkways anywhere else, but when Gambit stepped onto that stretch of sidewalk Rogue suddenly _felt_ the presence there. The cameras weren't the only security Essex had in place around this building. There was a strong telepathic shield in place, to keep out prying mutants such as Professor Xavier and his Cerebro, most likely. Walking through that barrier was a lot like walking through a waterfall; you could feel the weight of the shield slowly sliding across you, but even as you moved through it, it kept its form, reforming behind you as if you'd never disrupted it.

Rogue shivered against the onslaught and felt Gambit's mirroring movement. His empathic abilities would let him feel the shield as well, though not as deeply as Rogue had. She fought the urge to say something, anything, and relaxed against him once more.

Gambit didn't bother looking for a doorbell or intercom to contact someone inside. On the contrary, he stood there and waited for Essex to contact _him_. He knew the Doctor could see him, knew that Essex had an insatiable curiosity that wouldn't allow him to ignore Gambit for long. Most of all, Gambit knew that in forcing Essex to speak first he was placing himself in the position of power.

It was a little thing, in the scope of his task it was miniscule, and it might even be petty, but it was not something Gambit could resist doing. He'd spent years of his life escaping from this man's hold and with only a handful of words Rogue had convinced him to put himself right back. Gambit wasn't oblivious enough to not recognize the small amount of resentment that rose inside him against her for it.

They stood there for almost twenty minutes, the only movement the wind that buffeted them from around the buildings. Rogue felt the unease raising the hairs on the back of her neck but still she didn't move. She knew, and he knew, that this was a bad idea; that they hadn't thought the plan through and hadn't entered all the variables into their experiment.

Gambit shifted his feet, tossing his head backwards in an effort to get his long hair out of his eyes. Rogue knew without asking that he was preparing to make some sort of action, whether to leave or to force his way in she couldn't say.

She didn't know what she expected Dr. Nathaniel Essex to sound like. Humans, even mutants, expect there to be some sign of evil within others. They expect their voices to prod goose bumps from their flesh, expect to see signs of evil on their brow or burned into their chests.

Nathaniel Essex sounded like any other person you might pass on the street.

"What are you doing here, Remy LeBeau?"

Rogue couldn't tell where the voice was coming from, didn't remember seeing any intercom system or speaker when she'd done a visual reconnaissance of the entrance, but Gambit wasn't startled by the sudden sound of Essex's voice. He didn't shift, didn't move at all, merely replied in his usual slightly snarky, smooth purr. "Was in de neighborhoo' and t'ought how long it'd been since Remy had seen his ol'_ ami_. Won' you let me in now, Essex?"

Rogue noted how thick Gambit's accent had gotten whilst he'd been speaking and knew her hypothesis that he deliberately thickened it when it suited his purposes was true. She'd been guessing, poking at him in an attempt to knock off his balance as he so often did hers, but she was pleased to find she was right.

"I think not, Gambit. At least...not with a guest. Who is your guest?"

"_Mon __ange_? She de reason Remy is here. I t'ink you'd like to meet her, Doctor. I t'ink you'd be very...interested in what she can do." Gambit kept his voice smooth and without inflection and Rogue recognized his words for the sales pitch they were. From what Remy had intimated, Essex was a user who only helped others when it benefited him and his long term plans.

"What's her name?"

"Rogue."

"Rogue? _The_ Rogue?" Essex's voice took on an amused tone and his soft chuckles echoed over Gambit's shoulder to her ears easily. "You certainly know how to bring house warming gifts, Gambit." There was a soft sliding noise as the doors to the building opened. "Do come in."

It felt like a mistake, like walking into the Devil's din with only a dimly lit halo as protection, but Rogue knew there was no other recourse. She was nervous, she was afraid, and she was vulnerable without a set out plan in place; she had to rely on Gambit more than she'd had to rely on anyone in a long time.

She could only hope that he knew what he was doing.

The jostling feeling of being walked down a hall on Gambit's shoulder did nothing for her upset stomach and Rogue closed her eyes against the dizzying sensation of seeing the floor move by. Gambit's hand grasped her ankle in warning and she knew she'd grown tense; she relaxed but it was an effort.

Rogue couldn't see where Gambit was taking her and the feelings that knowledge caused in her was hard to control. Her training in the future had been focused around absolute control, over her body, her abilities, and her environment. Rogue had a tenuous control over her abilities and unexpected stimuli could strip that control all too easily.

For all her confidence, Rogue was a walking time bomb. Capable of losing it at any time, anywhere, and doing more damage than anyone could prevent. She was only a class three mutant, but she was a class three mutant with class five abilities at her disposal. Abilities that she could combine in unique and unexpected ways, she could create new abilities from those combinations.

She was a one woman army.

It was that fact that settled Rogue in ways no words could. This was a situation in which she had no control, but she was the Rogue. If she found herself in danger, it was all too easy for her to destroy everything around in, human or otherwise, and pick up the pieces alone. She was danger personified, unstable and jumpy, but controlled.

This time when she relaxed against Gambit it was real.

The soft movement of air and the slow rise in light in front of Gambit told Rogue that they were about to leave the long hall and enter a room, though what room she did not know. Rogue closed her eyes and breathed deep, taking in the scents that lingered on the doorway to try and identify what they were walking into.

The room itself smelled of disinfectant and new plastic and blood, old and most likely long cleaned up. The copper tang of a large amount of metal also carried in the air, so strong that Rogue could almost taste in on the back of her throat. The personal scents of people hung heavily over the base scents and she identified one of them as one of the people who came and went from the building on a regular basis.

The other she didn't recognize, but she could only assume it was Dr. Nathaniel Essex from how much it lingered in this room. It wasn't hard to guess where Essex had brought her and Gambit; they were in his personal laboratory. It didn't bode well for their task that Essex had immediately brought them here.

"Hello, Gambit."

A new voice, not the one that had let them into the building, not Essex. Rogue felt Gambit stiffen beneath her, one of his hands moving to shove itself deep into his pocket. She felt the soft shuffle of his cards within the pocket, the small jerk of his arm as the sharp edge of one card sliced his fingertip. The pain seemed to reassure him, however, and his settled his jumping pulse and muscles and forced himself to reply.

"Hello, Janos. Still here, I see."

Rogue didn't see it as a good sign that Gambit's voice had lost most of his Cajun flavor. He'd forgotten the charade he'd started and was losing himself in whatever emotions this new person evoked in him.

"You recruited me, Gambit, to a good cause. I don't abandon my endeavors once started," the voice cooed, becoming louder as the person moved closer.

"I'd hardly call this a _good_ cause," Gambit replied, his voice growing rougher as he prepared to defend himself against this new threat. Rogue prepared as well, reaching for the abilities in her mind and grabbing a random ability, which turned out to be super strength from Blob and Colossus. Her actions were unnecessary, however, as Essex was in no mood to clean up after a mutant squabble in his lab.

"Riptide, I believe you have your marching orders," his voice easily cut through the tension of the room and Rogue felt the sudden movements in air currents as 'Riptide/Janos' moved to leave the room without saying anything else.

Gambit exhaled deeply and Rogue knew that he'd been more than prepared to drop her like a hot potato and go at it with Riptide. She could almost smile at the thought; men were the same no matter the time or the place.

Essex spoke again, and Gambit immediately tensed once more. "You may lay her on the table there."

"Gambit'd rather keep his hands on her. You understand."

"Why don't you start with telling me why you're here, Monsieur LeBeau?"

"Gambit wants you to fix Rogue, same way you fixed him."

"Her powers are out of control?"

"_Oui_."

"Why would you put yourself back into my debt, Gambit? After all the trouble you went to last time to get out of it?"

"Gambit cares for her. A lot."

It wasn't a lie.

* * *

Review, please!

**Author's Note:** Wut? You say it's been a while since I updated? I was stuck. No lie. I got all the way to the scene where they were walking down the street and could go no further. I could not get Essex's introduction into the story right. Nothing I did wanted to work. So, finally, I scrapped half the chapter and started anew. This is what you got.


	29. Nine Crimes

**Chapter 29: Nine Crimes**

* * *

_Day 37_

_Los Angeles, California_

"Gambit cares for her. A lot."

It wasn't a lie; Rogue would have tasted a lie when her senses were pushed to the heightened degree she'd forced them to. It explained his insistence on staying with her, his refusal to allow her to confront Essex alone, the way his eyes followed her when they were in the same room. It explained the hormones his body pumped into the air when she stood too close to him, his irritating habit of goading her into conversations with him that hung heavily with innuendo. It didn't explain why her own body instinctively mirrored his moves, leaning closer when he did, responding to his scent as if starved for air. It didn't explain why she'd allowed him to join her and had even felt the smallest touch of gratitude that she wouldn't have to be alone. It didn't explain why she let her thoughts about his surprisingly truthful admission to Essex distract her from the fact that Essex's sycophant Riptide had not really left the building and instead had crept up behind Gambit.

It didn't explain why through the sudden fogging of her vision and loss of consciousness, her thoughts were concerned with the sudden facile body of Gambit under her. He hit the ground hard, his head making a meaty, muffled thump as it hit the tiled laboratory floor harshly. Rogue grimaced and struggled to remain conscious, the small telltale prick of a several needles on her legs helped her fight off the effect of the drugs within the syringes but not even her strength of will would keep her going for long. Gambit groaned beneath her, his eyes sliding open just a sliver. Her name was the word that formed soundlessly on his lips.

"Did you really think your little plan would work, Monsieur LeBeau? That I would let you and another alpha mutant like Rogue just walk in here without taking precautions? I'm not a fool," Essex exclaimed with a humorless laugh. "I'm more informed than you give me credit for, Gambit. I know that Rogue has been missing for a month and recently reappeared with more powerful abilities than when she left. I know that she was supposedly transported to the future. I know every little detail of your lives that you would never want anyone to know."

Rogue's mind was unstable, the glowing orbs of power she'd created were spiraling dangerously in a dizzying loss of control. Her senses amped down, Wolverine's ability sliding from her grasp, and suddenly she was the same vulnerable and powerless girl she'd been a month (year) ago. Pulse's ability joined the tornado of light, and she felt the unsettling stabbing tingle of her ability slide over her skin slickly. If she could get someone to touch her, imprint on her, she'd be able to shake off some of the drugs. Their life energy would supplant hers and there was a chance she could get up enough presence of mind to transport herself and Gambit.

It wasn't meant to be, however.

"Riptide, take our guests to their accommodations. When Malice returns have her join me in the laboratory. I have a new assignment for her."

Riptide's gloved hand gripped her shirt by the collar and began to drag her from Essex's lab and Rogue couldn't restrain the small moan of pain she felt as the projectiles in her legs dragged on the floor. Gambit was pulled beside her but she could see that he'd been hit in the chest with more syringes than she. His eyes were open, just a bit, but no one was home in them. Rogue wanted to feel angry, wanted to use that anger as she always had to build a wall around herself that nothing and no one could penetrate.

"Oh, and Riptide? We don't need any trouble so don't forget the collars."

Instead, she just felt numb.

* * *

_Bayville, New York_

'...using Cerebro, but I've been unable to narrow down the signals. It's almost as if something is deliberately interfering with my ability to contact them. Combined with the other signs that have been reported and things I've been able to glean from surface thoughts, I'm growing worried. The deadly nature of the situation has caused me to rethink my intentions for the 'New Mutants' for the summer. There are still two months before school restarts and I've already contacted the parents to ascertain that an early return would be welcome. For those that have homes to return to travel plans have been made. Unfortunately, for Ray Crisp and Tabitha Smith, there are no homes to return to. Ray has contacted the Morlocks and is welcome to return, but has expressed that he would like to stay here at the Institute even if he won't be allowed to help on the different missions I've just approved. Tabitha's surfaces thoughts have indicated her own plans to leave, though she hasn't settled on a place to go. I'll have to make sure that Logan plants a communication device in her belongings, somewhere she'll notice it quickly in case of emergency.

'On a personal note, I am afraid that my own personal grief over the loss of Dr. McCoy has made my judgment suspect. My instincts are telling me to trust Rogue and her team, but my logic tells me that their interests are entirely selfish. Whatever their mission is they're going to complete it no matter what the costs, and that is more dangerous than anything other variable of this situation to date. I've decided that the remaining inhabitants of the Institute, with the additions of Magneto's remaining Acolytes will branch off into three separate missions. Team One, Storm, Shadowcat, and I, will seek out the Hellfire Club. After the disastrous first meeting of several days ago I feel it best to sooth ruffled feathers especially given their clandestine funding of the Institute. Team Two, comprised of Nightcrawler, Wolverine, Colossus, and Pyro are going to search out Rogue's team and if necessary restrain them or help them. I can't trust my own feelings on the matter, so I'm leaving it to Wolverine. He is fully capable of making the hard decisions. Team Three will be populated with the remaining members of the X-Men and Acolytes; Magneto will collect Jean and Scott from the city, then along with Sabretooth they will search out the Legacy Virus. Magneto has contacts in the black market and believes he can-' Xavier paused the flurry of movement of his fingers on the keyboard and struggled to find the appropriate word. Finally, he decided to simply go with the most truthful. '-intimidate useful information from several brokers associated with the Hellfire Club and S.H.I.E.L.D.

'I'm very proud of the way my X-Men are handling themselves in the interim. Through emotional turbulence and deep grief they have risen to the occasion and pushed aside their personal feelings to act in the best interests of humanity. I have chosen them well.' Xavier sighed heavily as he finished the entry, encrypting and hiding the file with familiar movements. It wasn't a journal so much as a way for him to line up his thoughts. When you can hear every surface thought within a file mile radius without effort, sometimes it helped to differentiate your own thoughts from the pack. Writing, or in this case typing, them was a way for Xavier to do that.

The soft babble of many teenagers in one place drew him to the window; below in the courtyard pandemonium ruled. Storm had arranged for two vans from the nearby Bayville airport to transport the numerous teens all at once, one vehicle there solely for luggage. Xavier watched the young mutants playfully battle it out for seating favor, the grip of grief easing from around them for a few minutes before Storm's somber countenance reminded them of why they were there and what had happened. With a few movements and authoritative words she had the children scrambling into the van and waving goodbye somewhat forlornly. Jamie and Rahne, both the youngest of the group, were taking the goodbyes very hard, though Jamie fought valiantly to keep composure.

Tabitha waved merrily from the mansion's front steps, though Xavier knew that beneath her exuberant personality she was feeling the loss of her friends keenly. Ray barely managed more than a careless head nod, however, his own face sullen as he watched from just behind Tabby. Together the two of them watched the vans pull away, their facade of nonchalance fading within seconds. They, out of the entire group, had nowhere to really go and no amount of conciliatory offers on the behalf of their friends could made that distinct feeling of desolation go away. Ray could've gone with Bobby and stayed in Boston, but he wasn't fool enough to think that it would last. Having your son's friend over for a few days was all well and good, but not for two months. The same could be said of Tabitha and both Amara and Jubilee's offers of a place to go. Neither Ray nor Tabitha had accepted because for them it was better to face the truth than put it off and have to deal with small reminders every day.

Tabitha's face brightened perceptively and she turned to the only remaining New Mutant with a smile that spoke of mischief and more than a little trouble. "Ready for some fun, Ray?"

His eyes widened as the many memories of times Tabitha called "fun" resurfaced. "Um...no?"

"Nonsense, my dear boy!" She exclaimed in a pitch-perfect imitation of Professor Xavier. "I'm thinking you and me, poolside slumber party with all the accoutrements!"

"You're not putting make-up on me," Ray resolved, his eyes seeking out Storm as a source of back-up only to find that the Weather Witch had wordlessly left the scene and abandoned him to Tabitha's clutches.

"Of course not," Tabitha agreed and she looped her arm through his and began to pull him into the Institute. "That's 'movie night' gear, slumber party means spa things. Your face really needs to be exfoliated, Ray."

"Ex-filie-whated?"

"Don't worry, Auntie Tabby will take good care of you."

Xavier smiled to himself as he watched Tabitha drag Ray inside, effectively taking his mind off of the situation at hand and making sure his mind wouldn't drift back to it anytime soon. Xavier felt a wave of gratefulness for the first time for Tabitha's overwhelming personality. In most situations it proved only a hazard, but in this particular one it was only a boon.

The door to his study opened with a soft sound, Storm stepping in and shutting it behind her. His location at the window told her that he'd seen the van leave, but she repeated the information anyways. "The students are on their way to the airport now."

He nodded silently, before he turned from the window and the charming view that resided on the other side of the glass. "Magneto and Sabretooth have left?"

"Yes. They're going to collect Scott and Jean and will proceed with their assignment," Storm answered as she moved across the room to take a seat across from the desk. "I'm concerned that we were unable to contact them before assigning them this task. You know that Scott likes to be involved in the decision-making process."

Xavier nodded absently. "Jean needed some privacy from the bombardment of emotions the mansion was projecting, and I don't blame her. I decided against contacting her telepathically in case she's still dealing with adverse effects. I'm sure she and Scott are just using the time for some much desired..." Xavier hesitated before finishing with a slight smile, "...togetherness. What of Wolverine's team?"

"They're in the lower levels preparing to leave. Nightcrawler only just returned home an hour ago and needed some extra time to get ready. They'll be ready to leave in just a few hours. Kitty is currently agonizing over the civilians clothes she wants to wear for the meeting with the Hellfire Club, otherwise I need only to change as well and we can go." Storm stood and moved around the desk to stand beside her mentor. "Are you sure about this, Charles? The Hellfire Club was hostile when they attacked the Institute. Perhaps diplomacy is not the best strategy."

"They were hostile because of Rogue's interaction with them, they weren't aware that she was no longer affiliated with the X-Men. I can only hope that they are willing to hear our explanations and forgive the encounter," he explained, before sighing softly and continuing. "If we could have one less enemy in this world then I would breathe easier. You can never have too many allies, but you can have too many enemies, Ororo."

Storm felt slightly chastised and nodded her agreement. "I'm going to get ready, Professor. Call me if you need assistance."

Xavier demurred silently and waited until she'd left the room to return to his laptop and re-open his previous document. 'I will try to resolve the situation with the Hellfire Club as amicably as I can, but should I fail I have programmed my computer to send these files to you, Moira. I trust that you will know what to do with this information.'

* * *

_Los Angeles, CA_

Rogue came awake very suddenly, one second trapped in the inky hell of unconsciousness and the next opening her eyes to the piercing light of fluorescent bulbs. Her head was echoing with the sound of drums and the tears that leaked from the side of her eyes fell in rhythm with the pain. She didn't move at all, the only sign of her awakening being the sudden quickening of her breath. Slowly she took inventory of her body and mind and found both sorely lacking. Her body felt hollowed out and numb, with the exception of small points of stinging pain on the back of her legs and the headache reverbrating through her skull.

Most frightening though was the unending sense of alone that pervaded her senses. There wasn't a whisper of anyone in her head and the sudden cacophony of silence, compounded by the waves of pain had her nerves jumping with anxiety. She wanted to just lay there, wherever she was, and thoroughly search her mind for the whispers of presence that she knew had to remain somewhere. Not even Xavier's expunging of the psyches had made them leave completely. They left indelible marks on the walls of her mind, graffiti signatures that had grown to represent a sense of rightness for her. She could remove the personalities from the imprints, but they still had a visceral image tied to them.

There was nothing now. A blank canvas where the masterpiece of her powers used to be.

Rogue blinked slowly and forced herself to sit up, her body shedding the numb shell in favor of stiff ache. She studied her surroundings with the placid acceptance of someone who'd spent months locked in a room with only a few people allowed visitations rights. Her cell was small, only ten feet by ten feet, and instead of bars there was a wall of some sort of clear polymer. There was a bed which she'd been lying on, toilet facilities, but other than that it was filled with a whole lot of nothing. She was still wearing the same clothes she'd arrived in but they felt stale and dirty after having been slept in. Removing her jacket Rogue stood and stretched, forcing her muscles to lose the tension and loosen around her bones. She focused all her senses on the environment she found herself in and though she didn't have the superior senses other mutants' abilities afforded her, she could tell several things. The vent located in the ceiling pumped air into her room, air scented just slightly with a bitter component she couldn't recognize. The clear wall was movable only by the keypad on the other wall, which she had no hope of reaching. Gambit was standing the cell directly across from her.

"Are you okay?" His question was muffled but carried through his cell wall and hers easily enough. His face betrayed that he'd been awake longer than she and had spent that extra time concerned about her. She didn't give him platitudes or sugar-coating, even if it was what he wanted.

"I'm fine. What happened?" Her voice was hard, she couldn't help it. She was vulnerable and in an unknown situation and there was no back-up coming. This was what the X.S.E. had trained her for, but putting that training into practical use was harder than she'd expected.

"Riptide spinned around and around and took the world with him..." Gambit answered, his eyes falling to the floor and his voice fading.

"Spun."

"_Pardon_?" Gambit asked instinctively, his eyes shooting upwards and meeting hers for the first time since they'd begun to speak.

"You mean he 'spun' around and around. 'Spinned' is not a word."

"You're correctin' my grammar? Here? Now?"

"Well, if you're going to wax poetic about letting Sinister and his goon get the jump on us, then at least do it correctly," Rogue admonished, though she knew her intentions were lost on the shame-faced Cajun. She didn't need a morose pessimist for a partner, she needed her creative and foolhardy one back. That was the partner that she'd dragged into this situation with her and would be the one who helped drag them out of it. "Tell me about Riptide."

Gambit sighed and shrugged. "I recruited him for Sinister-"

"You what?" This was information that she hadn't known. Information that he'd have to have repressed very deeply for her not to have gleaned it from his memories easily. The older memories were the less depth they had and the harder they became to conjure. This memory, though, this working for Sinister had to be a fairly recent memory (at least in terms of Gambit's life length) but she hadn't even caught a hint of it when she'd imprinted him, any time she'd imprinted him. It spoke of conscious effort to repress and forget, and said more about Gambit than Rogue was comfortable with knowing. The look on his face only confirmed his feelings on the matter and Rogue felt regret for the first time since she'd made the decision to try and fix the time line. It was one thing to say you'll do anything and everything, but it was quite another to be faced with the living victims of her decisions. It was one of the reasons she'd left the Institute so quickly after terminating Dr. McCoy. The dead can't condemn you and your actions, only the living make that judgment.

Gambit hesitated, watched the thoughts slide across her face, before answering. "I was only fifteen when my abilities manifested, without control. I blew up everything from tables to clothes to food to people. I killed and I couldn't stop it. I ended up sitting in a room in my family's Garden District house slowly going mad. Someone had to dress me, feed me, bathe me; I was little more than a pet for them to care for. My adoptive _papa_ found a doctor who said he could help me. Doctor Nathaniel Essex, but there were conditions." Rogue wanted to ask questions, her curiosity getting the better of her, but she restrained the urge and instead listened. His accent faded to near non-existent but the small flares of it in his words charmed her immensely. She stepped closer to the wall between them and placed her hands on the cool surface, subconsciously reaching out for him though the effort was unnoticed and unfruitful.

"I had to work for him," Gambit continued, his eyes unseeing as he immersed himself in memories he'd tried his damnedest to drink, smoke, and fuck away. "Jean Luc reasoned with him, had a contract written out. It was just another business proposition for him, the same as all Guild business. He didn't need to know what the Doctor would do to me, or what he'd make me do, just needed to know that in a year I'd be released and could continue my work with the Guild." Gambit smiled suddenly, awareness sliding back into his eyes as he threw a flirty smirk at her. "Gambit is de best t'ief, _chere_, and Jean Luc wanted to know he'd get me back in one piece." His smile faltered. "So to speak."

"What happened?"

"Dr. Essex did what he said he could do. He operated on Gambit's brain and did something to give me control. I could turn it on and off, focus it, but there were limits too. I couldn't charge organic things anymore, no more people or plants or animals. Perhaps it was a safety measure, so I wouldn't turn my control on him." Gambit said thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly as if the idea had only just occurred to him. "With my newfound control he put me to work, and that's when I met Mr. Sinister. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, one a kindly doctor, the other a raving monster made up of all the darkness of humanity. He sent me out to start recruiting specific mutants for him. I recruited Riptide, Malice, Arclight, Vertigo, and Sabretooth."

"Sabretooth?" Rogue asked with surprise. She was unaware that Sabretooth had ever worked with anyone but Magneto.

Gambit nodded and noted, "That's how Magneto heard of me and recruited me for the Acolytes. Sabretooth mentioned me, supposedly favorably." He diverted his attention back to his original train of thought. "That was the core of the team, but I didn't know that at the time. He just kept sending us out to recruit more people. I figured he was making a mutant army, preparing for the war that was already rumored to be coming." He shook his head, his russet hair dancing across his brow. "But the newer people we were bringing in weren't coming back out. They were disappearing into his labs. We never stuck around long after dropping off the new mutants, just did our job, got our next assignment and left. I didn't even notice-" He froze, biting his lip and sighing heavily before he looked her in the eyes and continued the thought. "I didn't even notice what was happening for months. I just...concentrated on doing my time and getting out. He didn't share his plans or anything with me, we were just the hired help. Even when I realized what was happening, I couldn't stop him. He kept sending us out for more, specific people that he had whole dossiers devoted to. Some of them knew we were coming, though, and fought back. Arclight was killed and Vertigo was hurt bad enough that she went home to recover. Sabretooth left to rejoin Magneto. Sinister just found new people to replace them. The new people knew what they were getting into, though. Rumors had begun to spread through the mutant underground like a virus. The Marauders, the scourge of mutantkind. No one knew who we worked for, the government or someone else, they just knew that mutants seen with us were never seen again."

"What was he doing with them?" Rogue asked, unable to stop the question from spilling past her lips.

Gambit smiled bitterly. "What everyone wants to do with us, _chere_. Experimenting. Studying. Fixing us. Pushing the limits of our abilities to see how far we could go. Anything and everything he wanted. When my contract was up I left and I didn't look back. Just returned to my life at the Guild."

Rogue stared at him until he forced himself to meet her gaze. "It's not your fault, Gambit."

"Really, _chere_? Are you sure about that? Sure that I couldn't have stopped him? I'm not. I'm not sure of anything," he bit the words out, practically snarling at her as his guilt over the situation surfaced and overwhelmed him.

She was sure, definitely sure, that it wasn't his fault though. Just because you weren't to blame for the actions of others and your own inability to stop those actions didn't mean that the guilt didn't plague you from one life and into the next. She knew guilt, she knew guilt for others' actions, and knew that there was no way to simply stop feeling it. Rogue knew all these things, so she struggled to move past it. "What can he do, Riptide?"

"He can spin his body to just under the speed of light. Once he gets going there's no stopping him or anything he throws. He can form spikes from his bones but he prefers to use other objects like throwing stars and-"

"Needles full of sedative?" Rogue finished for him.

Gambit shrugged and moved away from the cell front to sit heavily upon his bed, covering his face with his hands as the stress of the day caught up with him. Rogue started to speak but realized that Gambit wasn't in any place to listen anymore. There was a soft fog emanating from his ceiling vent but he was already too far gone to notice it. Slowly his body slackened, his muscles loosening until he'd slipped backwards into a prone sitting position with only the wall holding him up. "Gambit!" It was futile, but she called for him anyways.

Rogue turned her eyes to her own vent but there was no sleep-time fog hissing gently from hers. The soft vibrations of footsteps coming closer to their cells shook the front wall that Rogue's hands still rested on and she threw herself away from the wall to curl up in a tiny ball in the corner. The placement of the cell bed blocked her partially from sight and she peaked around the plastic railing at the foot of it to watch Mr. Sinister and Riptide as they walked into vision.

"Good afternoon, Rogue. How are you feeling post-sedation? Any nauseous, light-headed feeling, or loss of bodily function?" Sinister asked in a jovial even tone. If it wasn't for his appearance, deathly pale with hair the deep purple of a bad night and a uniform that seemed to have been bought from Bondage 'R' Us, one might almost mistake him for a kindly pediatrician, if just listening to his voice.

Rogue shook her head slowly, watching as Riptide entered a code into Gambit's cell keypad. The clear wall slid away and the air-borne sedative dissolved into the hall air harmlessly. With the ease of great strength the mutant lifted Gambit's prone figure and slung him over his shoulder before exiting the cell and disappearing from sight.

Rogue jumped to her feet, and though it placed her closer to the despicable Sinister, she placed herself as close to the wall as possible and tried to see where Riptide was taking Gambit. She turned her questions to Sinister, though. "Where are you taking him, Essex?"

His low chuckle was a manifestation of all things malicious and caused chills along the back of her neck. "Don't worry, Rogue. You'll find out yourself soon enough."

Then he too disappeared along the same path as Riptide and Rogue was left alone.

Completely, and totally alone.

* * *

_Bayville, New York_

Amara watched as the small town of Bayville passed by. For a place that was such a large part of her formative years, it took a surprisingly short amount of time to pass through it on their way to the airport. All around her the rest of the Institute students had fallen quiet, the knowledge that this was the last time they'd see each other for a few months at least was depressing, to say the least. They'd all bonded tightly, adversity forging connections that would have otherwise never have been made. It didn't matter that they came from different cultures, different worlds; they were all mutants and it was a part of their identities that they would never willingly give up.

They were going home, though, the whole lot of them. To places where being a mutant was a secret, where it wasn't an identity so much as a flaw, where even familial love couldn't hold a candle to wide-spread bigotry.

Amara felt pressure on her seat and turned to find Rahne leaning over far enough that her face was only inches from Amara's. "Are we there, yet?"

It was enough of an icebreaker to clear out the terrible tension that had plagued them all for days now. "No, now sit down, Rahne. You're going to make the driver crash."

Roberto scoffed. "No, Jubilee stealing his rear view mirror to put on make-up is going to make us crash. Why did she get the front seat, again?"

"Because you were too slow, Sun-boy," said girl responded, putting the finishing details on her eyes and returning the mirror's possession to the Indian driver, who smiled gratefully. He adjusted it until it was correct again and ignored the small shadow he thought he saw dancing on the outer edge of his vehicle. It was just a trick of light, he believed.

"You wanna come back here and say that, _chica_?" Roberto threatened, a slight glow appearing on his skin as his powers revved up at the thought of a good old-fashioned squabble.

The driver ignored that too as a trick of light.

"Stop fighting," Bobby scolded, more than a little cocky. He was the only one of them to have worked an actual mission with the X-Men and had since then presumed himself to be the "head" New Mutant. "We're almost there and Xavier would be very disappointed if we were to destroy another vehicle."

The driver's (whose name was Rashid Suresh, not that the teenagers knew that) eyes widened almost comically and contemplated briefly radioing the driver in the van of luggage just behind him. He'd volunteered to drive the young mutants, was getting hazard pay for doing it, but also didn't want to be blamed if there was any damage to the airport's van. He listened as the seven youngsters dissolved into amicable bickering and lost interest in gazing at the scenery as it passed. The threat of vehicular harm from inside faded, but outside the sun seemed to hide behind the clouds as the air they rushed through began to darken. Rashid couldn't recall a storm warning from the news but fervently prayed that it would hold off until the various flights had left. He didn't want to be obligated to drive them all back to the Institute, not sure if the vehicle would survive a return trip.

It wasn't a storm that darkened the sky, however, because the only area being overcome by shadows was the area the van passed over and into. The radio on the dashboard crackled softly as his fellow driver behind him tried to contact Rashid, but interference kept the message from getting through. Distracted briefly from the sudden change in daylight, Rashid reached for the walkie and spoke softly. "Repeat, please."

There was no chance for the other driver to repeat his warning, however, because the shadows that had been surrounding the van, matching speed and direction, and dancing around the edges of perception suddenly rose up and consumed the van and all its inhabitants. For several seconds there was a fast-moving shadow form, shaped like a van and moving as if there still was a van inside the inky darkness, then just as quickly as the shadows appeared they disappeared...and took the van with it.

The other driver, whose name neither Rashid nor the New Mutants had known, was so shocked that he drove right through the spot they disappeared and didn't brake when the road curved. His truck hit the median with enough force to send the large vehicle flipping end over end, the driver's head smashing into steering wheel and driver window several times before crashing to a stop upside down and smoking.

* * *

_Author's Note: _I'm actually taking Selene's comic!canon power 'shadow-morphing' and taking it one step further. It's a bit of artistic license, so forgive the presumption.

_Author's Note (2): _I'd like to give a big welcome to those who only recently discovered and commented on this story. I'm very glad to have you all here reading and enjoying.

_Author's Note (3):_ Heads up for all my America-locked readers! The website HULU now has all four seasons of _X-Men: Evolution_ up! Every episode, every moment, everything we've all missed since it went off air!

Review, please.


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